Where Do We Go From Here?
by ozma914
Summary: Young girls everywhere are suddenly developing special powers. Now what? Some of the Scoobies aren't pleased with one idea: a new Watcher's Council. They also face a challenge from a familiar dancing demon, and a strange man from their dreams.
1. Now What?

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE

Chapter 1

"You can do it, Kara."

Kara heard her father's voice from where he sat with the rest of the students, but she didn't think she could do it. She didn't think she could do much of anything.

Kara stepped onto the mat, felt it give beneath her feet, and was glad that there would be some padding, considering she would probably be flat on her back in a moment. On the other side of the blue square Jason Quinn also stepped forward, looking a great deal more confident but still a little concerned. They strode toward each other until only a few feet apart, then bowed.

"Just like in training, Kara," she heard Jason whisper while their faces were hidden from the sensei. "You know you can do it. You have the talent -- just be confident."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered back. "You're a quarterback." Not to mention Jason's father, who was Madison, Indiana's local conspiracy theorist, drilled him every day on military weapons and tactics. Running five miles before breakfast in the morning made Kara's sparring partner twice her size -- all muscle.

They straightened and stepped back, and Kara heard the sensei call for them to begin. Then he added, his voice low, "You have the ability, Kara. You can do it."

Kara rolled her eyes. I feel like I'm in a Nike commercial. She moved to her left, and saw Jason step to his left so that they began circling each other. She could try a leg sweep -- that worked once in practice. With another quick step, she dropped down and jabbed out with one straightened leg.

Jason stepped over it like a jump rope and at the same instant punched straight out with his fist, which came straight at her forehead. Instinctively she drew back, but that put her off balance and -- as predicted -- she ended up flat on her back. Without being hit by a single blow.

Someone in one of the two lines of students tittered, and someone else shushed them. Kara felt her face redden. The Sensei, his mouth down turned, simple said, "Continue."

"It's OK, Kara," her father called. "No points against you."

Father, would you please shut up? She climbed to her feet, watching Jason as he danced forward, looking more concerned than ever. Oh, just go ahead and hit me, and get it over with. This is one exam I'll never pass.

He spun a foot out at her, and she dodged in the most spectacularly ungraceful way ever. "I can't hold back," Jason grunted as their heads passed. "It's like the class final."

"Fine." Wanting to get it over with, she lashed out with a one-two fist combination that had actually made contact against her father once, but Jason dodged, and she saw his hand darting toward her torso for a point scoring hit --

Something happened.

Power flooded through Kara, causing her to jerk back so quickly Jason missed. He spun around and tried again, but his blow again hit empty air. Then, to his surprise and hers, she gripped his arm, threw him forward off his balance, and landed a blow on his back as he went down with a surprised gasp.

Jason rolled over, staring at her in shock, but Kara barely noticed. Instead she stared at her hands, aware of every nerve, every muscle, the condition of her bones and skin, the energy flowing along her spinal column. It was like being half asleep and suddenly, for the first time in her life, coming wide awake.

One part of her mind took note of the total silence that engulfed the room. The students who usually made fun of her, and the ones who rooted for her success, all regarded her with wide eyes, frozen in position. Her father, always the first to cheer on her successes, sat open mouthed.

"Um . . ." The sensei hesitated. "Point."

Her father yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his glasses, as if a spec on the lenses caused him to see something impossible.

Finally Jason regained his feet, a smile replacing the earlier worry. "Okay!" He took an attack stance, and when he was sure Kara's attention was on him he charged forward, throwing a quick combination of punches and kicks.

Kara parried the first punch, jumped over the kick, spun around and kicked Jason's legs from under him, then closed her fist as if holding some kind of object -- and brought it down on his chest, right over his heart.

"Oof." Jason pushed her hand away and rubbed his chest. "Where did you learn THAT?"

From the startled expression on his face, the sensei was thinking the same thing. He turned to Kara's father, who shook his head so quickly his glasses almost flew off. The other class members, most of them high schoolers like Kara and Jason, started murmuring among themselves.

This time when Jason got up his expression had turned deadly serious. Encouraging his friend was one thing, but losing a match without scoring a single point was something else entirely. Looking determined, he rushed forward with the quick attack move that every student except him, at one time or another, had used to force Kara out of bounds before she could mount a counter attack. She remembered, as she poised to counter him, once overhearing two of them call it "Kara's Kryptonite."

An instant later Jason soared through the air upside down, landing right on the laps of those same two students. For a moment Kara fought an uncontrollable urge to stab him in the chest with something, anything, but even as she glanced around for a stick or piece of lumber the sensei managed to squeak out "Match", and her father raced forward to wrap his arms around her. Most of the other students followed, laughing and talking loudly enough to cover their astonishment.

"Is Jason --" The crowd parted and Jason stumbled forward, holding one wrist and favoring his left knee. "Oh, Jason, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean --"

"It's all right," he assured her, holding up his good hand. "Mostly my pride. It's just -- where did you suddenly come up with those moves?"

The students hushed to hear her response, but Kara could only shrug. "Honestly, I don't know. It's like . . . something just came over me, all of the sudden. Like everything was moving in slow motion and I knew just what to do."

"Well," her father said after a moment, "maybe it just took awhile for you to catch up to the rest of the class . . ."

Nobody spoke, and after a moment Kara realized how ridiculous that statement was. Nobody in the class had ever done anything like that because, despite the sensei's mix of various martial arts forms, and despite his insistence on using the imagination during matches, he had never taught anything like that.

The silence was broken by a voice that boomed through the open double doors to the lobby: "Someone turn on the TV! Quick!"

A first year student hurried to the television that perched on a stand in the corner, but before he could ask what channel to switch to everyone's attention riveted on the screen.

Shot from a helicopter, the view showed what appeared to be a massive hole in the desert. Kara realized just how big when a school bus, looking like a tiny yellow speck, came into view near one edge of the crater. A commentator, sounding excited, was continuing on:

"Scientists who have been detecting tremors in the area are speculating caverns beneath the town simply opened up when a stronger earthquake hit, and the chain reaction formed what has to be the biggest sink hole in recorded history . . .

"But whatever the reason, one thing is certain: The town of Sunnydale, California, has been swallowed up by this chasm and has vanished off the face of the earth."

#

"So, Buffy . . . what do we do now?"

Andrew heard the bemused tone coming from Xander Harris, and Willow Rosenburg's almost joking addition: "Yeah, how do you follow up destroying a whole town?"

Not for the first time, Andrew decided these people were crazy.

"Well, we could take out a state." This from the Slayer Faith, who Andrew knew was still wanted for escaping her prison sentence for murder.

"A small state." Buffy stood looking at the huge crater in the desert, where the community of Sunnydale, California used to stand. She didn't even glance at the others, but used the same light tone. "Rhode Island."

"Oh, be more ambitious than that," said Buffy's sister, Dawn, who stood closer to the bus and was now homeless. "New Jersey."

"Would anyone notice?" Xander asked.

"Really," pronounced Rupert Giles, from where he stood a little apart from the rest of the group, "You should get serious."

Finally, Andrew thought -- someone who understood the magnitude of what had just happened.

But then Giles finished, in that dry British tone of his, with: "Of course someone would notice if New Jersey disappeared."

Andrew shook his head and turned from the huge hole, examining instead the yellow schoolbus they'd used to barely escape going down with the rest of the town. Ironic, he thought, that the bus should be the only reminder left of an entire town, a place they all called home.

Well, not all of them. Inside the bus the slayer potentials -- no, full slayers, now, thanks to Willow's spell -- patched up the wounded as best they could. He wasn't able to get a count, but at least a few of them had not escaped the battle with The First and its army of super vampires. Spike was also gone, and Andrew shuddered as he remembered Anya being almost cut in half before his eyes.

But the Scooby gang was acting as if they'd just thrown a party, now making lame jokes about what jobs they should search for now that every job in town was gone.

Xander -- Anya's one time fiancé, who lost an eye in the fight against The First -- planned to become a pirate. Willow wanted to use her magic abilities to give people power-ups for pay, just as she had powered up the slayers. Buffy even turned away from the crater to relate how she once told her first Watcher that she wanted to be a buyer, even though she hadn't completely clear on what that job entailed.

That first watcher -- he must have also died, Andrew realized, or Giles wouldn't have taken his job. "Why am I alive?"

Andrew didn't realize he spoke aloud until the others fell silent. He felt a blush spread over his face, but thought he was saved from further embarrassment when Kennedy jumped out of the bus and walked toward them.

"Ambulances on the way, thanks to Willow," Kennedy said, throwing an arm around the redheaded witch's slim shoulders.

Dawn perked up at that. "Oh, did you use her summoning spell?"

"Nope --" Kennedy held up a small device. "Her cell phone. The dispatcher was a little preoccupied, but thanks to the magic of 911 they know where the hurt people are."

"They're getting a lot of calls?" Giles asked.

"Not from close by, everyone but us got away. But when Sunnydale got swallowed up it made the ground shake for miles around."

Before anyone else could speak Dawn suddenly turned to Andrew. "What do you mean, why are you alive?"

"Takin' over from Anya with that directness thing," Xander said softly.

"I mean . . ." Andrew wasn't sure how to explain it to himself, let alone someone else. "I just didn't expect to live through this. This was so big, and I'm so . . . well . . . small." Emboldened by their silence, he forged on: "You're all taking this so lightly, like it was just dusting one vampire or burning a single house down. But we just defeated the very First Evil ever, the biggest big bad, and all these people died and our town was swallowed up and I don't have anything but the clothes on my back and there's another Hellmouth in Cleveland and what do we do now?"

"We start by not going all hysterical," Kennedy said with a warning tone.

"No." Dawn shook her head. "Look at all that just happened -- maybe we deserve a little hysterics."

"I'm not trying to be hysterical --" But now they were talking amongst each other again, as if Andrew hadn't even been the one to bring up the subject, and not for the first time he felt left behind.

"Hysterics is good after the fact," Xander said. "A little dancing around in small circles and making panicked screeches can really relax a person after a hard day saving the world."

"Yes," Willow agreed. "And Oreos. With milk."

"I'm still for the bubble bath," Faith added. "I didn't expect one for another twenty-five to life."

"This is what I'm talking about!" Andrew protested, but their voices had become a babble, and a helicopter hovering above almost drowned them all out. The group didn't quiet down until Giles stepped forward with a shout.

"That's enough!" He looked around to make sure he had everyone's attention, including the new Slayers who were hanging out the windows of the bus. "Andrew is right -- we're in denial. It's a normal part of grieving, which is something we're all going to have to go through to some extent in the coming days. We've lost close friends, and homes, and gone through a very traumatic experience."

"All the more reason," Faith told him quietly, "why we really do need some serious R and R. When we're done joking we're all going to crash big time."

Giles nodded. "And we need a place to do that. First we deal with the inevitable questions, and make sure the injured are taken care of. Then we need to decide the best course of action to find and train the new Watchers and their slayers."

The helicopter moved on to another part of the disaster scene, leaving a dead silence in its wake. Most of them, Andrew noticed, seemed shocked, but Buffy just looked mad, and was the first to speak.

"No way. Giles, I am officially retired --"

"Don't you think I want to go straight back to England, and pick up my normal life again?" He took a swipe at his sweat stained face, reminding Andrew they were still standing in the middle of the desert. "There's nobody better than us to find potential new Watchers --"

"The last thing we need is more Watchers!" Faith protested. "Don't you remember what those old British guys did to me?"

"Faith, you did a lot of it to yourself."

Faith clamped her mouth shut, jaws working as if she was trying not to scream. But then she took a deep breath and looked away. "You're right. But Giles, a lot of what the Watchers did amounted to keeping the Slayer under their thumb so she didn't think for herself."

Giles nodded. "The Watcher's Council became corrupted by their own power in some ways, I admit that. But those people are gone, and the job of the individual Watcher is more important than ever. There are hundreds of young slayers who have suddenly gained new and frightening powers, and they need direction." He turned to Buffy. "There is no one alive better than you and Faith to teach the Slayers their new responsibilities, Buffy. No one else who understands as well. We're needed."

"I need to be a normal girl again!" She clenched her fists, looking ready to flee until Faith stopped her with a quiet, resigned voice.

"You were never a normal girl, B. He's right. Nobody's better at avoiding responsibility than me, but . . . he's right."

"We'll all help." Willow waved her arms to take them all in. "It'll be the Scooby Gang again, only this time we'll be like the bosses and won't have to do the dirty work as much. Right, Xander?"

"Sure. Shouting orders, yelling for coffee, ordering more memo pads --"

Andrew couldn't believe it. They were getting way ahead of themselves again, forgetting the basics, assuming everything would just work out -- well, it had so far, but still. "But we don't have anywhere to go. We don't have jobs, we don't have money. I might have to sell my camcorder."

Dawn put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Your camcorder's in the hole, sweetie."

"Oh."

"First let's take care of treating the injured and come up with a good cover story that won't keep us in police custody for weeks." Giles looked around at the highway and scrub brush that lined it, as if the answer would pop out at him. "Then we'll head to Chicago."

Another silence. Chicago? To Andrew, Chicago seemed further away than any demon dimension, and for this group it probably was.

"Um . . ." It always required someone brave to break a silence, and this time Dawn went for it. "What's in Chicago?"

"The other Watcher's Council."

Still another silence. Andrew realized his mouth was hanging open when a bug flew into it, and by the time he was done coughing and choking Buffy had just recovered enough to speak.

"Did you say --"

"ANOTHER Watcher's Council?" Faith interrupted with horror.

"Are they all dry and boring?" Kennedy asked.

"Maybe they're gangsters," Willow told her. "You know, big time Chicago crime lord types."

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "Tweed wearing dandies from England and gun toting mobsters from Chicago. Maybe there's a gay Watcher's Council in San Francisco."

"It's not PEOPLE." Giles sounded thoroughly exasperated, especially at Xander. "It's a location, a headquarters where copies of our research materials were kept as well as some other items that might be needed, in case the original Council headquarters was ever compromised."

"And you planning to tell us about this when?" Buffy sounded more than a little upset, herself.

"Well . . . I just now remembered it." Seeing the doubtful looks from the others, Giles hurried on. "Certain key Watchers knew of the other quarters, but volunteered to have our memories modified so our enemies couldn't find out about it. Apparently the events of today triggered some sort of key --"

"Like me?" Dawn asked with a grin.

"The knowledge that our enemies were destroyed, perhaps, or the sudden need we have of a place to go. In any case, once we get to Chicago we'll be able to stay there while we plan our next move."

"Do they have a bathtub?" Faith asked, but Buffy waved her off and glanced around at Dawn, then the others.

"But no people?" she demanded.

"As far as I know, I'm the only surviving member of the Watchers." Suddenly Giles looked very tired, and Andrew wondered how many friends the Englishman had lost. "We need to get Robin and the others to medical treatment, and after that we can use the Chicago location to reorganize."

Buffy nodded. "Okay. We'll have a place to crash and time to regroup -- I can't imagine who would challenge us right after we defeated the First Evil."

#

Many people called him the Cheeseman.

Not to his face, of course. Although deceptively mild looking, only one being ever called him Cheeseman to his face, and that person had met a very painful, messy end. After that, word spread fast through the demon dimensions.

Sweet lounged in his throne, mentally working up some lyrics to a new opening, when the gilded double doors on the other side of the ballroom opened to admit his demon colleague. Cheeseman didn't _look_ like cheese, which in the world of demons was a legitimate question. He looked like a normal, mild mannered gentleman in his later years, wearing a dull tweed suit and glasses. But nowhere did the cliché "appearances can be deceiving" mean more than among the hundreds of demon races that inhabited the dark crevices of the supposedly real world.

Sweet, who with his red, rubbery skin looked much more the part, knew who he faced the instant Cheeseman entered Sweet's corner of this particular dimension, although the two had never met in person. Among demons, these two were famous for coming closest to the current Vampire Slayer without losing their heads -- although for different reasons.

Stretched out on his throne, Sweet cupped his hands behind his head and examined the interloper. It wouldn't be impossible to eject Cheeseman from his domain, but his newest queen had recently burst into flames, and he was feeling a bit bored while waiting for his next call. "Greetings. Have you come with a song in your heart?"

"Maybe later." Cheeseman marched across the gilded dance floor, his bald head flashing from the disco ball lights, and held out a tray. "I bring an offering." He withdrew the covering to reveal a nicely laid out display of cheese -- of course. colby, cheddar, American; slices, chunks, strings.

"Looks yummy, but I can be a messy eater. It may have to wait until I can get out of this custom made pinstripe suit -- it's an original." Sweet waved to the throne on his right, then remembered it held a charred corpse in a blackened lace wedding dress and pointed to a chair on his left, instead. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

"Why, thank you." Cheeseman found a footstool to rest the tray on, then perched on the chair. "Sorry I missed the big finale." He gestured toward a half dozen smoking bodies littering the dance floor.

"There are always more chances to put on a show. Could it be that's what you're bringing me?" Although somewhat horrified by Cheeseman's awful sense of fashion and rather limited culinary tastes, Sweet had to admit his curiosity was overwhelming him.

"Possibly." Reaching forward, Cheeseman picked up a block of cheddar and examined it in a disturbingly loving way. "Ah, cheese. It never fights the inevitable. It doesn't care right from wrong. It knows its place in the universe and simply -- accepts it. Not like Buffy Summers."

Oh, of course, Sweet thought, Buffy Summers. "In her defense, the Slayer is somewhat more --"

Cheeseman shot him an angry glare, and Sweet decided to change tack. "-- But of course, she has to die."

"I entered her dreams, once, and you can see the hearts of your victims. Between the two of us, we know more about Buffy Summers than almost anyone."

"And you want my help so you can --?"

"Destroy her, of course." Cheeseman nibbled on the edge of the cheddar with an expression of bliss, but after a moment his eyes narrowed, and he turned back to Sweet with a dark expression. "I entered her dream, but there was another, more powerful presence already there. She ignored me! Me! I can't allow that to go unchallenged."

"Hm." Sweet stroked his chin, considering. "She managed to shake off my magics once, too. Of course, the landscape has changed. The First Evil has apparently been driven from the human plane, at least for now, and instead of one slayer you're facing hundreds."

Cheeseman waved that off. "One slayer or a million -- I don't operate on their plane of existence, so they present me no danger. I want revenge against one slayer only. The rest can live or rot, for all I care."

"But to reach her, you may have to operate on her world." For the first time, Sweet began to get a little concerned. Cheeseman seemed somewhat unbalanced, and considering what Buffy Summers had already done, incurring the girl's wrath again seemed a dangerous notion.

On the other hand, it would be an interesting concept, pitting a Dream Demon against an army of slayers. If he could help Cheeseman gain an equal advantage, the resulting conflict might provide Sweet with entertainment for weeks. "So you're looking for a weakness to exploit."

Cheeseman leaned forward eagerly. "You can assist?"

"I can advise. And, perhaps, tag along -- your silent partner, or as they say in show business, the sidekick." To soften the blow of what he had to say next, Sweet reached forward and picked out a slice of American. "My friend, your own experience should have shown you both what to exploit and what to fear." He took a bite and was surprised to find it fresh and pretty darn good. Clearly, Cheeseman rotated his stock.

"Yes?"

"Her friends, of course. They survived an attack by the sprit of the First Slayer and also battle with the First Evil, and they're getting stronger. We demons don't usually have friends, so we fail to understand how powerful a force love can be, but that's what kept Summers alive for so long."

Nodding slowly, Cheeseman sat back against the throne. "And her weakness?"

"Also her friends. She will risk her life and her mission to protect them. Now she's going to be occupied with an army of untrained and untested slayers, and the loss of any one of them will effect her greatly. Strike while they're still more of a liability than a strength, and you have a chance against her. If you wait until they come to know her, they'll defend her with their lives."

"Slayers . . ."

"Yes, indeed. Buffy's already one of the oldest who ever lived; she'd be a great leader of a slayer army."

"A slayer army . . ."

Realizing Cheeseman was following a different train of thought, Sweet gave him a sharp look. The small man stared off into space for a long moment, until a smile slowly spread across his nondescript face. Then he reached forward, took another chunk of cheddar, and turned to smile at Sweet. "You've led me right to the solution, the best revenge."

"Oh? Care to share?"

"I need to know for sure it can be done. If you'd still care to tag along, we'll investigate together."

Sweet glanced over to his former bride, who had almost stopped smoking. Why not? There was no action here. "You've piqued my curiosity, sir."

"Fine, fine. Buffy Summers may be firm and fresh now, like a fine block of cheese, but when I'm done . . ." He clenched his fist over the cheddar, until it crumbled and pieces fell out from between his fingers.

"Ah, you've lost your snack," Sweet said with a smile. "And with the price of milk so high, too." He stood to follow his new colleague.

Cheeseman just brushed away the crumbs. "No matter. If all goes well, the demons and vampires of the world will shower me with gifts of cheese. For the world will soon be filled with dead slayers."


	2. Changes

CHAPTER TWO

Kara stood in her bedroom, arms crossed, and stared at the items lined up on the dresser before her.

Her alarm clock had been squashed to half its size in an attempt to hit the snooze button.

The door knob to her closet -- no, the entire lock assembly, including the inside knob -- had been ripped completely out of the door during a clothes changing panic.

From her favorite Barbie jutted a nail file, thrown with enough force to pierce where its heart would be just as Kara woke from one of those strange dreams she'd been having.

Worst of all, the center of her iPod now sported a hole the size of her thumb, reducing the music player to a paper thin paper weight. All she'd been trying to do was play some Jessica Simpson. Her father was going to kill her.

"This is very weird," she told herself, before turning again to the floor length mirror by the damaged closet door. She looked the same as she had last week, tallish and thin, with mousy brown hair, a narrow face, and the most horrendous braces imaginable. She pushed up the sleeves of her purple t-shirt and flexed her arms, but could see no more muscle than before she started damaging anything she touched.

"I'm, like, a superhero." If she stayed a superhero, she'd destroy so much stuff her dad would go bankrupt.

As if he'd read her mind, her dad -- she somehow would have known it was him, even if someone else had been in the house -- knocked on the door. In one motion she jerked open her top dresser drawer, swept the damaged items inside, and shoved it closed again. It took barely two steps to cross the room, and she had to remind herself to be careful before turning the knob.

Richard stood there in his signature black -- in this case sweatshirt, sweatpants and gym shoes -- carrying a book, as he usually did. Kara had never been able to figure out whether he dressed in black because it suited him, or if he was trying to live up to some kind of professional writer image.

"How're you doing, kiddo? You've been acting a little off the last few days." Richard adjusted his glasses, and tried to look nonchalant.

"Oh, I'm fine." He started to speak again, but she'd learned since her mother died how to deflect these conversations. "It's just that time of the month."

Reddening, her father took a step backward and held the book up in a defensive motion. "Oh, okay --"

At that moment Kara glimpsed the book's cover, and every sense went on red alert. It looked like a textbook of some kind, written by some Ph.D., with a title in lurid red over the black background: "Vampires: An Historical Treatise."

"Where -- what --?" She leaned toward it, unaccountably transfixed.

"What?" Richard glanced down at the book, examining it as if a bug might be crawling across the cover. "I ordered it through an interlibrary loan. For some reason I've had a strange interest in this kind of stuff lately -- maybe I'll insert some monsters into my next book, huh?"

"But --" Kara couldn't take her eyes off the word Vampire, and she felt the blood rush hotly through her veins. "But you're an historical fiction writer."

"Well, an old time horror novel might be interesting, don't you think? Vampires, werewolves, maybe a Frankenstein's Monster or two."

She shook her head frantically. "There are no such things as monsters."

Richard watched his daughter for a moment, then shook his head with a sad smile. "Haven't seen the news lately, huh?" He reached out to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Sorry it startled you. I know it's not my normal boring historical tome, it just kind of clicked with me, like a light bulb. Now, why don't you come wash up for dinner?"

Kara nodded, trying to control her breathing. "In a minute."

After the door closed she leaned against it, fighting the urge to go running out into the dark. She belonged out there, somehow, out in the darkness fighting -- something. It didn't make sense. Her father hated the dark, always had. Powerful outside lights illuminated both the front and back yards, and he'd rarely allowed her to be anywhere that wasn't brilliantly lit -- as if he was afraid she'd disappear into the night.

She thought of that little patch of darkness in the side yard, behind the cherry trees, where the light didn't carry. It had always fascinated her, but she'd never ventured into it; she just stood sometimes and stared into the blackness, as if waiting for it to speak to her. It never had.

But maybe it was about to.

#

"This is so cool," Dawn said.

As soon as they'd entered the office, on the fourteenth floor of a downtown Chicago office building, she began darting around, exclaiming over the computerized room controls, the expensive artwork, and the view from huge windows that overlooked Lake Michigan. By the time the group gathered again, Dawn was practically giddy with excitement.

Buffy simply stood in the wood paneled lobby, as the others fanned out to explore an area that took up the entire floor. Most, like Giles, walked through the spaces silently, taking it in. Xander landed a few wisecracks, and once she heard Willow exclaim "Wow! G5's with duel processors and 21 inch flat screens!"

Something about computers, Buffy assumed. The place kind of gave her the creeps, seeming too cold and sterile -- but what could be expected, of rooms that hadn't been inhabited for decades? Someone had obviously come through now and again to update the technology, but otherwise she saw no sign of human habitation. She wondered if the Watcher's Council sent robots in to do the work, but that thought brought back too many past memories, and she shook it off.

What finally perked her up was a shout from Kennedy, which brought her and most of the others into a huge gymnasium at the center of the space. It made the basement workout room at the Magic Shop pale in comparison. A line of attack dummies, two workout mats, an entire corner dedicated to gym equipment, and -- blessed be -- an adjoining room that held a small pool and a whirlpool bath. "That would have helped the bruises," she murmured, taking in that and a massage table.

"Faith would love this," Kennedy said, opening a cabinet to reveal racks of polished, perfect weapons. "Come to think of it, so would Robin."

"They'll see it as soon as he's out of the hospital," said Andrew, who had been unusual quiet -- for him -- throughout their trip here. It had been a long trip, too -- by chartered bus, as they tried to keep a low profile by avoiding the red tape of airlines.

Or maybe Giles had decided on the bus for different reasons. At one time or another almost everyone in the group broke down in tears during the journey, as the events of recent weeks finally caught up with them. That, and the stories, and the hugs, and the long talks -- the more she thought about it, the more Buffy realized there was more than one reason why Giles ignored the griping about having to take the slow way.

The new slayers made a dash for the weapons, and the room filled with whooshes and clangs as they swung swords, maces and staffs back and forth. "Careful," Xander yelled, "you'll put somebody's eye out." His face fell when he realized none of them heard his joke, so Buffy patted him on the shoulder and Dawn gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

At that moment one of the half dozen doors leading into the room opened and Giles walked in, just in time to dodge a dagger as one slayer knocked it out of another's hand. Oddly, he didn't seem overly upset as he joined Buffy and Xander in one corner of the room. "Jolly good, training already."

Buffy looked at him, and realized the older man had an almost joyful gleam in his eye. "You've been to the library, haven't you?"

"Indeed I have, and I'm happy to report it holds duplicates of most of the volumes lost when the London headquarters exploded. It's one of the most comprehensive libraries I've ever seen, and Willow's exploring a very well equipped computer lab as we speak."

At that moment Dawn and Andrew, dodging flying slayers, joined them. "Does the library have manga?" Andrew asked.

"Does it have _what?_"

"Japanese comic books," Dawn explained, which earned her a surprised look from Andrew. "Hey, I read 'Peach Girl'."

"Oh." Andrew seemed impressed, Buffy noticed, which could only mean they were discussing a geek thing. "I love Ranma, and Chobits --"

Dawn gave Andrew a smug look. "I always suspected you were ecchi."

"Hey, that's not --"

Buffy raised a restraining hand before the conversation could sink any further into nerdville. "Guys, this is a Watcher library, so don't expect anything fun."

"Yes, quite --" Giles did a double take, but chose not to argue. "The point is, this facility seems to be fully equipped. There are dorms -- well, individual rooms originally, but I'm sure there was never thought given to housing dozens of slayers. Also offices, kitchen facilities --"

"And a massage table," Buffy pointed out. "If you really want me to stay, we need a masseuse."

Hesitantly, Andrew raised his hand. "I could --"

"A world of no."

"She'd break your fingers," Xander warned Andrew. "Believe me, I know."

As they spoke, the noise level in the huge room increased, much like an out of control high school lunch room, until they were practically shouting. Giving up, Giles led everyone but the new slayers through the door behind him, where a corridor took them to a gleaming office area. Willow glanced up from a console that looked like it belonged on a "Star Trek" set, her face shining. "Is this cool, or what?"

Buffy grinned, imagining what Giles thought of this particular room. "Looks like someone dragged the Watcher's Council kicking and screaming into the 21st Century."

"Yes, well . . . the library's much larger. And the seating there is more comfortable."

"Keep fighting it, Giles."

They gathered in chairs behind Willow, who had gone into full mad scientist mode as she played over the keyboard. With a flourish, she made a flat screen, big enough to watch the Superbowl on, slide up from inside the console. "Have you found what I asked you about?" Giles asked.

"Yep, it was right where you said." As Willow worked a map of the world appeared on the screen, and on that map little points of blue and red began flashing. "There they are," she announced. "Our targets."

They leaned in to examine the lights. "Blue for demons?" Xander guessed. "Naturally, red would be for vampires."

But Giles shook his head. "This system uses a combination of technology and mystical arts to pinpoint the location of slayer potentials -- now slayers, of course. That would be the red lights. Any slayer who's old enough appears in red; apparently, after Willow's spell, the potentials automatically become slayers at the time they hit puberty."

"Thank goodness it's not earlier," Dawn said. "Imagine a two year old slayer having a temper tantrum."

"I want my stake!" Xander yelled in a baby voice. "_Now_!"

Giles cleared his throat. "The blue lights represent potential watchers."

The group fell silent. Potential watchers? Buffy had assumed they inherited the position, considering the tales she had heard. Besides, what magical skill did a watcher need? The ability to read without falling asleep? A mystically dry sense of humor?

When no one else spoke, she ventured, "What do you say to those guys? 'You are the one chosen to watch over, think about and research the forces of evil'?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea what we'll tell them. We developed the system as a way of starting the Watcher's Council anew in case our ranks were ever decimated by an attack, but that never happened -- until now. There is a certain mystical element involved, but mostly the computer searches databases for those with the mental and emotional capacity necessary to accomplish the mission." As he spoke, Giles studied the map. "Look here, a potential watcher right by our small cluster of injured slayers recuperating in Los Angeles. It might be a doctor."

"Well, it's gotta be better than the old system," Xander said. "Where we got winners like Wesley Windham-Price."

"So we have to train not only slayers, but their watchers, huh?" Buffy shook her head. "That's a tall order, Giles."

"I know. But you know how incredibly dangerous rogue slayers can be. We must provide these new slayers with guidance and, unfortunately, that means training their watchers at the same time." He turned to Buffy. "And that's why I need you."

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not --"

"You're one of the oldest and most experienced slayers ever, Buffy. You have a huge wealth of experience to share, and that might help keep these other slayers alive."

Buffy winced. Giles sure knew how to hit her weak points -- but then, who would know if not him? "I'll help bring them in, for starters, then we'll see." When Giles started to protest, she raised her hand. "Getting them here has to be the first step, doesn't it? Besides, I've got a personal errand to run, first."

"An errand? Doing what?"

But Buffy shook her head. "It's personal. But it won't take long, and maybe I'll bring some slayers and watchers back with me."

Xander, Willow and Dawn chorused, "I'm going with you," but again Buffy shook her head.

"We need to split up to find these slayers. Don't worry, I'll be all right." To deflect further protests, she pointed to the map. "Giles, any idea where to start?"

He gave her a long look, then sighed and turned to the map. "I still have a few friends on the other side of the ocean who might be able to help us, so I suggest we start in this hemisphere. As you say, we'll split the team up while it's still safe to do so, before the forces of darkness can gather themselves again. I'll work up some routes that will cover the most territory, but I suggest we start here." He pointed to a place in southern Indiana, where a blue light stood so close to a red one that they bled into each other. "A slayer and potential watcher in the same small town, not too far from here -- that kind of coincidence is certainly serendipitous."

"That's a good thing," Dawn told Andrew.

"Well, then." Giles nodded, looking satisfied. "It's a new beginning."

"A new beginning," Willow agreed, and the others echoed the words. All but Buffy, who couldn't help remembering her last new beginning, and how it had disrupted her life.

#

He was a mean looking Ether Demon, green skinned, with huge tusks and horns growing in a line from the top of his head to his tailbone. He looked like he could break Cheeseman with one hand, and --

He was tap dancing. And singing:

I can't tell you

She's gonna get me

I'm terrified and

so scared I can't pee

You gotta know she's the meanest boss around!

Sweet rubbed his temples, willing his headache away. "That one would be cut off-Broadway."

The demon did a little pirouette and kept going:

I don't mean to

upset my captor

I'd rather leave you

dancing with rapture

But she'll just kill me if I give out a sound!

Cheeseman had clapped slices of American over his ears, but apparently it wasn't helping. "This is torture -- but not for him."

Sweet snapped his fingers and the demon, now silent, collapsed onto the rubbery surface at his feet. "I told you it works much better in the human dimension. Not only are demons poor at rhyming, they have no rhythm. Still, even bad dancing will burn his feet off if you give it long enough."

"I'd prefer not to take the time." Tapping his chin with a finger, Cheeseman glanced around at the shimmering lavender sky, and the dark red trees in the distance. "Well, we'll have to try it my way." He pointed a finger at the cowering demon, who simply shut his eyes and lay still.

Sweet, who still wasn't sure what his pseudo-partner was up to, poked the demon with a custom made tap shoe. "Did you kill him?"

"Shhh, I'm concentrating." Cheeseman closed his eyes, and after a moment the demon's limbs started jerking. It was dreaming, Sweet realized, and as the minutes wore on the sleeping demon started sweating and moaning. Then it lay still, and Cheeseman opened his eyes. "Poor thing couldn't stand the terror. But I got what I needed." He turned in a seemingly random direction and started walking, forcing Sweet to hurry to catch up.

"What terrible thing did you put into his dreams?"

"Bunny rabbits. For some reason, many demons are terrified of bunny rabbits."

"Ah. And what are you terrified of?"

Cheeseman gave him a sharp look. "Mold."

"Of course. I've always had a fear of going tone deaf --" Sweet stopped -- or rather, was stopped, as he bounced off what felt like a rubber wall. All he could see ahead was more red tinged meadow and what looked like burgundy palm trees. But Cheeseman had stopped just short of hitting the invisible wall, and now he held up a plastic wrapped package that he had pulled out of thin air.

"A gift for your ruler!"

Sweet raised an eyebrow. "Roquefort?"

"My best. From very contented ewes."

An instant later, without a sound, the landscape seemed to split, falling away from them until they found themselves standing in a gleaming silver throne room. Everything -- ceiling, floor, and the raised throne ahead -- was of polished silver. Curtains to either side were of silver thread. Sweet thought it could use more contrast, but he had to admire the style.

When someone finally spoke it was a soft, feminine voice that seemed to come from everywhere. "I am Oz, the great and terrible. Who are you, and why are you here?"

Sweet and Cheeseman glanced at each other, then both looked around at the curtains. "I request guidance," Cheeseman finally said.

"And I," Sweet added, "am willing to be Dorothy, the mild and meek."

"SILENCE!" the voice roared, but a moment later one of the curtains parted, and a girl glided toward them. Her skin was light and perfect, her hair jet black, and she wore a gauzy white silk gown that flowed behind her. A small golden crown perched on her head, and bright red flowers decorated the sides of her head. Sweet judged her to be in her early teens, although he knew better than to be sure this was her true form.

"I am Ozma," she said in a sweet, soft voice.

Again Cheeseman and Sweet exchanged glances. "Really?" asked Sweet, who had always wished someone would turn the other Oz books into musicals.

"No, not really, I'm just messing with you. But it's a pretty form, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, your majesty." Cheeseman bowed, and held out his roquefort. "If this doesn't satisfy you, I also have access to all the minds of the human and demon worlds."

"Cheese binds me up terribly." Ozma had a twinkle in her eye, but Cheeseman stepped back, looking insulted. "But I'm sure we could work something out."

"I could arrange for some virgin sacrifices --" Cheeseman began.

"Well discuss it later." Ozma moved to her throne and sat back. "You wish to destroy the Slayer."

Cheeseman nodded. "Doesn't everybody?"

Although he didn't say it, Sweet thought of how he actually kind of liked the Slayer. She had a nice singing voice, and her little sister could really cut a rug. As he thought that, Ozma looked at him and smiled.

"Not everyone. I, for instance, have little contact with the mortal world. Still, some powerful magic has changed the balance of power on Earth, and we all have an interest in seeing that balance restored."

Cheeseman looked a little embarrassed as he admitted, "I had rather hoped to swing it in the opposite direction."

"Of course you do, that's the nature of evil. What did you have in mind?" As she spoke Ozma picked up a scepter beside the throne and waved it, causing two chairs to appear behind her visitors. Sweet sat down gratefully; those patent leather tap shoes were stylish, but uncomfortable as all get out.

"The slayers are being gathered together." Cheeseman carefully laid the cheese offering on the floor beside him. "They would create a powerful army, and since The First left the mortal plane there's nothing to oppose them. The Wolf, Ram and Heart have the power, but they seem to be staying out of it."

Ozma nodded. "They've occupied themselves with some complicated plan of their own, but they're not as devious as they believe."

"So who would be powerful enough to take on an army of slayers?" Cheeseman waited.

When Sweet realized his partner wasn't about to give his plan away easily, he decided to break the silence by joking, "Another army of slayers?"

"Exactly."

Sweet stared at him, but Ozma just smiled. "And where would you get this army of slayers?"

"How many slayers are alive today? A few hundred? Less? The First killed many potentials, and others died in the final battle." Standing, Cheeseman began to pace, rubbing his hands together. "And speaking of dying, how many slayers have lived and died since the first one, millennium ago? The average life expectancy of a slayer is -- what -- a few years, at most? Suppose a new one arises every five years, that would make 20 in just one century. Two hundred in the last century, four hundred since the birth of Christ -- the actual number's surely much higher."

Sweet stood, his carefully practiced attitude of bemusement vanishing. "You're going to resurrect the dead slayers?"

Turning, Cheeseman offered a smile that to Sweet seemed truly insane. "Several hundred, maybe thousands, under my control. Even if the living slayers have banded together by then, they couldn't withstand the onslaught. Besides, imagine their reaction when they find themselves attacked by a superior force of their own kind?"

"Psychological and mental warfare, as well as physical," Ozma agreed with a frown.

"But --" Sweet was shaken by the pure audacity of the plan. "How? And how will you control them?"

"Magic can do amazing things." Cheeseman turned to Ozma. "Yes?"

The girl nodded. "You will owe other powers a great debt, but it can be done."

Grinning, Cheeseman rubbed his hands together. "Buffy Summers thinks she's seen everything, but I have one last surprise in store for her."


	3. Dreams and Cleveland

CHAPTER 3

Willow and Kennedy held each other tight, looking horrified. "It can't be," Willow gasped.

Kennedy shook her head, still unable to believe this could happen to them. "You want us to go . . . to _Cleveland_?"

Grinning, Dawn turned from them to see what Giles' reaction would be. The Watcher, looking perturbed, yanked off his glasses and began rubbing at some nonexistent spot. "There's a slayer there, living on top of a known Hellmouth. You can get her away from there until she's trained, and at the same time scout out the situation."

"Yeah, but it's Cleveland," Kennedy said.

Willow nodded. "We were kinda hoping our first assignment would be, maybe, the beaches of Brazil, or Alcupulco."

"This is not a vacation, Willow, it's an assignment."

"And we should go happily, because . . ." Kennedy pretended to consider it. "Because you pay so well?"

"You are being provided with housing, food, expenses, and training."

Dawn turned to Xander, who sat beside her on a couch in the building's living area. With a wink -- or he could have been blinking, since Dawn couldn't see his other eyelid behind the patch -- Xander addressed his friend the witch, and her slayer lover. "What are you guys complaining about? We're going to Indiana."

"And we're going nowhere," Rona added, from where she and a handful of other slayers sat in one corner. Beside her, Chao-Ahn was engrossed in a book called "English for Dummies".

"That's right," Vi added. "This place is roomy, but it's been a week and we haven't been out at all."

"I have arranged a visit to some local museums, to give you a break in your training."

Rona gave Giles what could only be described as an evil eye. Vi rolled her own eyes, while Chao-Ahn rifled through the book, looking for the definition of "museum".

Four new slayers, who had somehow arrived in Chicago before Buffy's band could even get settled in, looked on in confusion. Guided by Giles' small but far ranging group of contacts, the new slayers were finding their way to Chicago at the rate of one or two a day. Although Dawn had tried to give them an orientation of sorts, there hadn't been time to cover the personality quirks of watchers or Scoobies.

One of them would end up strangling Giles, Dawn thought. He'd been paranoid ever since they got here, although that was hardly surprising considering how many potentials and slayers he'd seen die in the previous months. Just the same, she was glad to be getting out for awhile -- especially since she's been wondering, ever since Buffy left that morning, just what her purpose was here. Tour guide for new arrivals?

Andrew burst into the room, and bounded up to Giles. "Mr. Giles, I defragged the hard drives and double checked the firewalls -- there's no spyware."

Giles blinked at him.

"And I put up a really cool X-Men screen saver."

"You _what_?"

"Well, you put me in charge of the computers while Willow's gone, and --"

"Never mind." Giles had turned slightly red.

Dawn rubbed her face to hide a smile, and reflected that Giles' next big project would probably be to figure out where he could send Andrew. Ever since telling the story of how Anya had died to save his life, Andrew had been tripping over himself to be helpful, as if trying to make up for her loss. "We should be going, Xander."

"Right, let's get this road trip -- um, tripping."

What followed, unsurprisingly, was a flurry of hugs and handshakes, and promises to be careful and stay in touch. Willow and Kennedy left to prepare for their own trip, while Xander shouldered his and Dawn's bags and headed for the parking garage. It turned out the Watcher's Council had provided this place with a small fleet of vehicles, and Xander had chosen a van, since there might be four of them plus belongings on a long journey back.

But Dawn held back a bit, until Andrew left to hover around the slayers and she could take a minute alone with Giles. She had come to think of him as a member of her own family, and knew he felt the same as she did about one subject. "Giles -- have you checked the map?"

He nodded, and to her surprise leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. "As we suspected, she's heading toward California. What she expects to accomplish, I have no idea. Perhaps she just has to satisfy her curiosity."

Dawn nodded. "I know the feeling." Then, to keep from choking up again, she turned to follow Xander. They had a lengthy drive ahead, but she was looking forward to contributing in her own small way, and it didn't seem like a very dangerous mission.

#

Buffy was dreaming. She hoped.

Spike and Angel stood before her, in Sunnydale's northernmost graveyard, the one nearest her home. All this, she told herself, was now in a big hole in the ground, which held Spike's ashes. But there the two vampires stood, staring at each other, trading --

Song.

Much to Buffy's surprise, Angel wasn't very good, and she realized she'd never heard him sing in real life:

You don't know what I'd do for you

I've gone through hell and more

This guy's just no good for you

He just treats you like a --

Spike shoved Angel over a nearby tombstone, and proceeded to demonstrate that rocking baritone voice she'd heard before.

This bozo's soul is boring and dull

A dose of NoDoze wouldn't phase him at all

You know I'm the one who makes your blood flow

So dump him now and we'll go on with our show --

Angel leaped at his nemesis, and they wrestled for a moment until Buffy came between them, giving two powerful shoves to force them apart. Staring at them in a rage, she said --

You don't have a heart, between you two

All you ever gave was hurt and heartbreak

One of you just left, again and again

and the other one just caused me pain

When Spike started to protest, she raised a hand to stop him.

Shut up!

I'm tired of fighting

You may be good at sex but you're better at biting

Neither one of you can be

In the place I want to see

No more monsters, no more night

No more slayers sent to fight --

Buffy stopped short, staring at the tombstone Angel had tripped over.

JOYCE SUMMERS

As she watched, a shadow covered her mother's grave, and she looked up to see a small, balding little man wearing a seedy gray suit. He held up two yellow squares and grinned at her, while a very tall man wearing military camouflage crept up behind him.

"The cheese sings to me."

Buffy opened her eyes, and almost vaulted out of her seat, before she remembered she was on a moving bus. She glanced around, but night had fallen, and she saw no sign that the few occupants of the Greyhound had noticed her startled awakening.

Wow. What a weird dream. It had been realistic enough to make her wonder if it was one of her prophetic slayer dreams, but what was the chance of that? She'd detected no threat, just -- weirdness. Extreme weirdness.

That cheese guy seemed awfully familiar, though.

#

"That was fun," Cheeseman announced.

"Yes, we should take it on the road," Sweet replied. "Buffy lost her rhyme, though, for a moment . . . she seemed very close to wresting the dream back away from us."

"A talent slayers have. Don't let it concern you, I know her limitations."

They stood in the same silver throne room, in front of something the teenager girl who called herself Ozma informed them was a magic mirror. This was more or less how Sweet usually spied on those he used his powers on; but for Cheeseman, who hovered on the edge of his victims' dreams, it was a unique experience.

Cheeseman rubbed his chin. "The slayers are separated from their leader. But there's no one, demon or vampire, near enough this bus route to attack her."

"Never mind that. If your plan works, it will wipe them all out at once."

"Yes," came Ozma's sweet voice from behind them. "And my newest guest is here to hear your request."

The two demons turned in time to see -- something -- enter the throne room. No more than a shadow, it swept across the large space, leaving everything dull and lackluster. It was as if all the lights dimmed in the wake of a black, wispy smoke. Sweet shivered despite himself, and he noticed Ozma slip her bare arms under the gauzy layers of her gown. Maybe, he realized, this form was more her than he had assumed.

"I am here." It could have been one voice, or many speaking simultaneously, in both high and low tones -- if this was one being, it could be its own chorus.

Cheeseman, with a nervous glance at Sweet, took a step forward and bowed. "I come to you in supplication, oh great one. I wish to --"

"I know what you wish," the voice declared. "I know all."

If I had a dime for every being that gave that line, Sweet thought, but he didn't dare say that out loud.

A long silence followed. Cheeseman, head still bowed, glanced back at Sweet, who quickly shook his head. His intuition told him speaking right now would be a grave mistake.

"The slayer will go to Los Angeles," the voice suddenly said. "She will take others away from there."

"Yes, great one," Cheeseman said.

"More slayers will come, but then they will also leave with one of their own. Once they have left, you must not allow another slayer to enter that city."

"Yes, great one."

"You promise this, and we will give our assistance."

We? Sweet raised an eyebrow.

"I promise, great one," Cheeseman said.

"The supplies you need will be sent to you from Wolf, Ram and Heart. When they arrive, you must go in body, to a gathering point. There the key must be turned, by a slayer's second blood. You must have a mystical energy source to engage the transformation. Do this, and if the incantations are correct the bodily essence of the slayers will cross back over, under your control."

"Yes, great --" Cheeseman looked up as the lights suddenly brightened.

"He is gone," said a somber looking Ozma.

I bet that one wouldn't even hum a chorus, Sweet thought.

"You deal with the power of gods." Ozma glanced only a moment at Sweet, then turned to Cheeseman. "The Senior Partners rarely come to this plane of existence in person. Something besides your plan brought that one here. You're part of some much greater scheme, and I fear you may be caught in the crossfire."

"I'll take that chance." Cheeseman gleefully rubbed his hands, which for once carried no cheese. "If it will give me an unkillable army of slayers."

"It will." Ozma turned her still troubled gaze on Sweet.

"Sounds like a hell of a show," Sweet told her, although for once his bravado was mostly fake. "Perhaps you'll join me for a waltz afterward?"

"Perhaps. If there is any reality left to dance on."


	4. I'm a what?

CHAPTER 4

When two strangers entered the coffee shop, a startled Kara realized one of them wore an eye patch. Did anybody still use those, outside of pirate movies? He treated the other, a girl some ten years or so younger, like a complete equal. Kara immediately sensed there was some story behind them.

They took seats at one of the tiny tables near the front of the small shop, and even though it was a warm evening the girl ordered hot chocolate, while the man took coffee with cream. Kara served them with the required smile, taking care not to accidentally crush the cups, then stepped behind the counter and as close to the front as she could. From there she could hear the two talk, as long as no other costumer came in to provide background noise.

"What is it about men and asking directions?" the girl demanded, after sipping her chocolate and finding it still too hot.

"Hey, we're here now, aren't we? Besides, I wasn't lost -- I was just taking the scenic route."

"We drove around Indianapolis twice. It was _not_ a scenic route."

Travelers, obviously. And coming here? For the state park, maybe, or the history. Kara forgot about them for a moment, when she realized the cooler motor had kicked on. She should not be able to hear them now, but as long as she concentrated on the couple they were as clear as if she sat beside them. Another strange new ability to add to the list -- should she get a costume? Cape or tights?

"It's true, Dawny," the man was saying. "There _are_ different kinds of corn."

"Yeah, some you eat and some are in your jokes."

Kara glanced back to make sure her coworker -- Jason Quinn, the owner's son -- was still occupied with with the electrical wiring in the back room. He was constantly trying to correct his father's wiring attempts, which had led to such things as what she and Jason called the "Spiraling Ceiling Fan of Doom" that hung unused above the two customers. Jason's dad may know all about shooting and blowing things up after fifteen years in special forces, but he couldn't do home improvement worth crap.

Seeing the coast was clear, she chanced a quick glance through the counter glass. The girl -- Dawny, more likely Dawn -- was well dressed, with a burgundy long sleeved velvet blouse and dark jeans that featured a wild swirl design down the side. Kara envied her auburn hair, which flowed straight down to the small of her back. The dark haired guy was handsome, in a goofy sort of way, and showed lots of muscle through a gray t-shirt that sported the logo "Sunnydale Girl Watcher Team".

Sunnydale. Why did that name seem so familiar?

Dawn glanced toward her, so Kara busied herself cleaning an already spotless counter. The other girl lowered her voice, but Kara could still hear her clearly:

"Okay, so we made it to Madison, and we've been prowling around town for an hour. Now, how are we going to go about finding a slayer and watcher?"

Slayer? Watcher?

"Well, it's a small town."

"Compared to Sunnydale, yes, but --"

"Actually, Sunnydale's population is much smaller now that it's a hole in the ground."

Sunnydale. Kara dropped her cloth on the floor and kneeled down to grab it, her heart pounding. The news about Sunnydale came at the exact moment --

"Xander, we can't exactly go around holding interviews."

"Hey, no arguments there. But all we have to do is snoop around and listen for stories about girls who suddenly develop special abilities."

Kara, still on hands and knees, froze.

"I guess it would be hard for stories not to get out," Dawn mused. "If a teenager girl suddenly started beating up the school bullies or rescuing kids from burning buildings . . ."

"Exactly. The real challenge will be convincing her that she has to leave her life behind. No more friends, no more family, no home -- just training to kill creatures of the night."

"Just like us." Dawn sounded melancholy. "I mean, not creatures of the night --"

"Hey, we are a family, now. Pretty soon there'll be a battalion of slayers, watchers, a witch or two, Andrew, and us. All jammed together into a compound, waiting for the next apocalypse."

So -- it was a doomsday cult, then, just like the one Jason's dad tried to start before the zoning board denied his variance. She was going to be kidnapped by a cult because of her special powers. This was all way too M. Night Shyamalan, and she wanted no part of it. Kara spun around and began crawling toward the end of the counter, but before she reached it she spied a pair of Nike clad feet, and followed them up to see Jason, who had been the first victim of her new power during the martial arts meet. Rumor had it his dad had been so upset at him losing to a girl that Jason spent the night disassembling and reassembling an M16, blindfolded.

"Kara? Are you okay?"

So much for quick escapes. Climbing to her feet, Kara dusted off her jeans and glanced backward, where Dawn and Xander remained deep in conversation. "I am so not okay."

"What's the matter? Beat up another schoolyard bully today?" Jason was not renown for his discretion, and his voice seemed to boom off the shop's high ceiling.

"This is not a good time for this discussion," Kara hissed, but Jason went on as if he hadn't even noticed they had customers -- which, being Jason, he probably hadn't.

"C'mon, I know you didn't throw me across the room without some supernatural assistance." He grinned. "I saw you picking up your dad's riding lawn mower the other night."

In the mirror behind Jason, Kara saw the couple at the table had frozen in mid conversation. "Jason, would you please --"

"Hey, it's okay, you know I'll always be your friend. I was just wondering if you were bitten by a radioactive spider, or bombarded with cosmic rays, or --"

Kara grabbed his arm and squeezed. "Does the term secret identity mean anything to you?"

"Ow." Looking past her, Jason turned pale. "Oh."

Kara whirled around to find Dawn and Xander standing right by the counter, staring at her. "Um, hi," Dawn said.

"Kara, is it?" Xander asked, with a somewhat shaky smile. "I think we've been looking for you."

"I don't think so." But Xander anticipated her attempt to flee around the counter, and blocked her way when she reached the end. "Look, I don't want to be a part of your cult --"

"Cult?" Xander looked bewildered. "What cult?"

"I heard you talking. Your watcher/slayer/witch cult. I'm not using my powers for evil, so forget it."

"Cult?" Jason repeated.

"Oh, no, it's not like that," Dawn protested. "You'd be using your powers for the greater good."

"Powers?" Jason said.

"Oh, sure." Kara pushed past Xander, but then found Dawn blocking her way. "Greater good, right. Then it's wearing the same clothes, and massacring nuns, and pretty soon we're all drinking poisoned Kool-aid on a remote island while waiting for the comet to come."

"What comet?" Jason demanded.

"There's no comet," Dawn protested, holding her hands up. "Look, it's like this: Into every generation a girl is born as a slayer, and for this generation it was my sister."

"Buffy," Xander added.

"Buffy?" Kara shook her head. "If you want me to believe this tall tale you'd better do a better job with your character names."

"Hey, I didn't name her." Shaking her head, Dawn continued. "The slayer is trained and prepared by a Watcher's Council, but the Council was wiped out by an ancient evil that wanted to kill all the potential slayers."

"You were a potential slayer," Xander said.

"Potential --" Jason closed his mouth when Kara held a hand up. Despite herself, she wanted to know where they were going with this story.

"Buffy couldn't battle this evil by herself, so her friend Willow, who's a witch, cast a spell that turned all the potential slayers into full fledged slayers, and the slayers who were with Buffy won the battle."

"I helped." Xander traded looks with Dawn. "Well, we both did. Anyway, now you're a slayer, and we want to help you develop your skills so you can battle evil."

Kara stared at them.

"So . . ." Jason shook his head. "It's like Star Wars?"

"Without the light sabers," Xander told him. "Or Darth Vader. Which is good." He turned to Dawn. "Should we have said all that in front of this guy?"

She shrugged. "That's how you got involved."

"That's my point."

Taking a deep breath, Kara tried to calm her shattered nerves. Their story made just a little too much sense -- sort of -- to ignore, but she desperately wanted them to leave her alone. "So, there are monsters, and slayers, and watchers -- and a witch named Willow?"

Xander nodded. "She's a good witch -- she's even dating a slayer."

"I thought you said all the slayers are girls?"

"Well . . ." Xander glanced away, looking embarrassed. "She's a good witch, but sometimes she can be a bad girl."

"She's a lesbian witch," Jason supplied. "I'm up with that."

But Kara pointed to the visitors. "So, then, who are you?"

"Oh." Xander thought for a moment. "Well, I guess we're watchers."

Looking startled, Dawn turned to him. "We are?"

"Well, we're not slayers, and we're helping to find and train the new ones, so . . ." He appeared at once pleased and upset at the idea.

"A watcher. Huh. Maybe I could finally tell Buffy what to do." Dawn also seemed to have mixed feelings, but she shrugged it off and turned back to Kara. "We think there's a potential new watcher somewhere in this town, too, so we're hoping to collect him before we head back to Chicago."

"Hey, maybe I'm a watcher," Jason said.

"You're a dork," Kara told him, but her thoughts were on someone else. Someone who was once a teacher, still an expert on self defense, and who had developed an odd interest in the supernatural, lately.

"Look, we don't really have much time," Xander told them. "We're trying to collect all the slayers and watchers together, so they can train and develop their powers. There shouldn't be a rush, but trouble tends to collect around them."

"So it's dangerous," Kara said, wondering how she felt about that. Had she always avoided danger because she didn't like it, or because her father didn't?

"Well --" Xander cleared his throat. "No, not that terribly dangerous, not really."

"Uh huh. And how did you lose your eye?"

Xander gave her a deer in the headlights look and cleared his throat again. But before anyone could speak, a new voice interrupted from the front door.

"Maybe someone had it for a snack."

Four people filed through the front door, three men and a woman. The one who had spoken was unusually tall and burly, and wore a long leather trench coat. Behind him came a rather thin black teen, then a balding middle aged man in a business suit, and finally a woman whose blind hair had been spiked. The four couldn't be any different, but were obviously traveling together.

"Can I help you?" Kara said automatically, but her nerves were screaming that this was even worse news than the last two strangers who walked through the door.

The tall man grinned, and threw himself into the chair where Xander had been sitting, while the other three spread out. "We just got in from Cleveland . . . and we're thirsty."

"Okay." Sizing them up, Kara realized that ordinarily she could take them, while at the same time wondering why she was thinking that. Clearly, this was not ordinary, a thought that was confirmed when she saw Xander and Dawn backing away, toward the back room. "What would you like?"

"Something hot." Unfortunately, that came from the door to the back room, and Xander spun around to see an exotic looking asian woman standing there. She wore a leather jacket and miniskirt, mesh stockings, and -- fangs. Not to mention a weirdly bumpy forehead. "Something hot and red. By the way, you left your back door unlocked."

Turning to Jason, Kara saw that, although he looked terrified, her friend had already set himself into an attack position. Xander and Dawn stood back to back, and she noticed each had reached a hand beneath their clothing. Whatever they had, it had better be good, because it looked like they wouldn't make it through this without a fight. Still . . . "What do you want?"

The tall man lazily pointed. "Dawn Summers."

"Me?" Dawn squeaked.

"Yeah. Come quietly, and we'll make your friends' deaths quick and relatively pain free."

Kara's gaze darted around the counter. _Let's see -- vampires. Wooden stake, cross, holy water, sunlight . . ._ Her eyes fell on a glass of wooden spoons on the counter. Well, any port in a storm. She edged toward them.

"What is it with you vamps and the weird choices?" Xander was saying. "Die quick or die slow, we'll take your eye or an ear -- and you think we're not going to fight? Why don't you offer us death or a ticket to Disneyworld? I'd really have to think about that one."

Growling, the middle aged man put on his vamp face and headed toward Xander.

Kara grabbed the pile of spoons and flipped one toward Jason, who automatically caught it. "Stake one!" she yelled, then vaulted over the counter.

"Steak?" He stared at the spoon.

It all happened very quickly after that.

Dawn's hand emerged from her jean pocket with a small vial of water that she dashed into the face of the advancing vamp. Screaming, the blinded vampire clutched his smoking face and fell back, but except for their leader the others advanced. He just smiled, clearly confident the battle would be a short one.

The asian girl grabbed at Dawn but then fell back, with a cross burned into her forehead. Xander's victory was temporary, as the black vamp kicked the cross out of his hand and the two grappled at each other.

Kara jabbed the end of the spoon at the other female, who blocked it and swung a fist at her. Kara blocked that, spun around, and aimed the spoon again, but her action had taken her close to the leader and he swept his foot out, knocking her to the ground.

Laying there, Kara could see only the unmoving ceiling fan above her, and hear the sound of someone crashing into the counter. Jason's dad, who had just remodeled the place, was going to kill anyone who survived this.

Hey, wait a minute. Leaping to her feet, Kara looked for Jason and found him still standing in the corner, spoon in hand. "Jason!" she screamed. "Fan on high! Now! Then use your spoon!" She dodged Spike Girl and gave her a shove that sent her flying into the blinded middle age guy. "Hurry!"

Shaken into action, Jason, flipped a switch next to him and then shoved the black vamp off Xander before trying to stab the demon in the eye. Above them, the burnished aluminum ceiling fan -- which Jason's mechanically deficient dad had thankfully not yet fixed -- sent up a hurricane as it spun with the speed of an airplane propeller.

For the first time the vampire leader looked worried, and started climbing to his feet.

"Not the eyes, kid!" Xander climbed back to his feet and grabbed the spoon from Jason. "Stay away from the eyes!" The black vamp was just regaining his feet when Xander shoved the spoon handle into his chest with all his strength, making the monster explode into dust.

Spike Girl was coming for Kara again, but she had a plan now. Instead of dodging, she crouched down, grabbed the advancing woman around the thighs, and lifted her into the air.

Vamp neck met miswired ceiling fan, and suddenly Kara was holding nothing but dust.

"What was that?" the blinded vampire demanded. Not the most memorable last words, but instead of waiting for the guy to come up with something original Kara threw him into the air, where he undoubtedly didn't see the end coming.

Before Kara could move again the asian girl slammed into her, shoving her to the floor. But a moment later she, too, was dust, and Kara looked up to see Dawn, triumphantly holding Kara's dropped spoon. "They really should put warning labels on these things." She held out a hand, and pulled Kara to her feet.

Let's see, that left -- Kara looked around, but the vampire leader had fled. "See? Not so bad," said Xander, as he pulled bits of countertop glass from his arm. Dawn brushed dust from her clothes while Jason, looking practically catatonic, hovered near the back room as if ready to run.

"You did pretty good for your first time," Dawn told Kara.

"First and last." Kara ignored the rush, the flood of adrenaline, the pounding of the blood in her veins -- the fact that she'd liked it. This was not her. She'd never looked for a fight, hadn't even wanted to get into martial arts until Jason and her father insisted. "We have a quiet town, nothing happens -- you brought that here."

Xander stared at her. "You haven't been having any mysterious deaths?"

"No."

"Missing people --"

"No."

"Bodies drained of blood --"

"_No_!" She pointed a shaking finger at Dawn. "Have you forgotten that the -- thing said it was here for her?"

"Oh, yeah." Xander turned to Dawn, who already had a stubborn set to her face. "We've got to get you back to Chicago."

"No way. The mission's not done."

"Dawn, we didn't come here expecting any kind of activity. We're not prepared for this, and not protected."

"Bull." Dawn pointed at Kara. "We've got her."

"Hey, wait a minute --"

But Dawn shook her head. "You're a slayer, Kara. You saw what just happened -- the strength, the skill, the brains. You've got it all. And once you become a slayer, the bad guys just show up, whether you like it or not. If you're not trained, if you don't have someone to watch your back, everything you love is in danger. You have a family?"

_Dad._ "Oh, no." She headed for the door, but Xander grabbed her arm.

"Don't worry, vampires can't come into a home unless they're invited."

"Dad invites everybody in."

"Well, then, let's take the van. We have weapons in there."

They dashed out the door, leaving the wrecked coffee shop empty. Suddenly, finishing her shift seemed the least of Kara's problems. By the time they were halfway home Kara realized there would be no monsters at her house -- they hadn't come here for her, after all -- but a much, much more frightening prospect lay ahead of her. No matter what she decided to do, how would she explain all this to her father?

Even worse -- what if her father was part of it?


	5. Old Friends

Chapter 5

Buffy stared down into Sunnydale.

It was surprisingly easy to pick out landmarks. True, the city now lay in a massive hole in the ground, but the buildings had been on top, with nothing to cover them up. The only thing completely gone was the high school, now marked by a still smoldering crater of heat blackened earth.

She could make out the crumbled remains of streets and sidewalks, and here and there a roof remained mostly intact. A few of the larger buildings had dropped almost straight in, leaving them easy to identify, while parks and cemeteries were marked by mounds of green.

It was one of these green areas she headed toward, but unfortunately she had lots of company.

She'd managed to avoid the National Guard patrols, as she approached the site in the early morning darkness. The main perimeter has been much more difficult, but by being stealthy and making a few truly spectacular leaps over guard dogs and motion sensors, she'd made it to the edge. There she discovered numerous areas where the side had caved in, giving her a ramp of sorts that allowed her to continue. But by then the sun poked over the edge of the crater, and it wasn't long before someone in a hovering helicopter caught sight of her.

Buffy used all her skill to allude the two Hummers full of soldiers, but she couldn't shake the chopper, and by the time she reached the edge of the northside cemetery she could see small groups of armed, camouflaged men in the distance, moving to intercept her. This was not good.

Then, directly ahead, an unusually tall, lanky soldier popped up from behind the jumbled remains of a crypt. He held some kind of mean looking ultra modern weapon, and an eyepiece attached to his helmet aimed straight at her. She skidded to a halt, knowing her insane quest was over, and waited for him to order her to the ground.

"Stand down, soldier."

Buffy still couldn't believe it, even after he removed the helmet to reveal that unruly light brown hair and familiar broad smile. "Riley?"

"Neither one of us should be surprised." Riley Finn sent a string of instructions into his radio mike, and within seconds the helicopter peeled off to hover in the distance. The soldiers, some looking disappointed and other curious, loaded back up into their trucks and headed for the edge of the pit.

Buffy stared at her former lover, and for some reason the dream she'd had came back to her. Here she was, in the same cemetery, but the one man in her life who hadn't been fighting -- and singing -- over her in the dream showed up now. Well, there was also that weasel college student whose name she refused to think of . . .

"I had a feeling you might show up," Riley said, and then he stepped forward to give her a brief hug. "And you should have known that the government would want to investigate this disaster using the people most familiar with what's really going on."

"Yeah, I . . ." Despite herself, Buffy scanned the tombstones scattered around her. "I don't know why, but I guess I didn't consider such a big fuss being made over the -- remains."

"That's because you Sunnydale people learned to take this kind of thing in stride." Riley offered her a canteen, and she gratefully took a slug of cool water. Sunnydale had edged the desert, after all, and she'd been working her way through the security cordon all night. "But something this big couldn't be ignored by the outside world."

"So you're investigating?"

"Do I still need to?"

Briefly, Buffy filled him in on everything that happened during those long weeks of fighting The First, although she left out where the group went afterward. When she finished she waited a long moment -- waited for the questions. But all he said was, "So . . . Spike didn't make it, huh?"

Huh. Men will always be men. "By the way, how's your wife?"

"She's in that helicopter. In fact, I think she won the pool on how soon before you showed up." He grinned. "We're still going strong. When I said that about Spike --"

"I know. I didn't actually see him . . . go. Well, partially I did. He was really hot."

Riley's grin faded.

"I mean, on fire. Literally on fire. Which, as you know, doesn't go over well with vampires." Sighing, Buffy looked around again. "It was really him who did all this."

"She's gone, Buffy."

She turned her attention back on Riley. "Huh?"

"I just realized why you came here, to this particular place." He took her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. "One of our jobs is to move the caskets, take the bodies somewhere else, and I saw to it that one of the first caskets moved was your mother's. She's safe in a new cemetery, just a few miles from here."

"Oh." Buffy dropped down onto a broken tombstone, relief flooding over her. "Thank God." As much as she told herself that the dead were gone, and she needed to deal with the living, she hadn't been able to let it go. Not knowing the condition of her mother's grave, whether it could have broken open . . . it had preyed on her until she had to return.

"This was actually one of the last graveyards we were going to get to, but I made a special point to get Joyce out of here. I figured you'd have enough other worries, and I planned to tell you as soon as I could get in touch." He shrugged. "That's one of the reasons we were keeping an eye out for you."

"Thank you, Riley." Then another thought hit her, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "You mean, most of these caskets are still occupied?"

"Yeah. We're working on it, though -- Buffy?" He had to hurry after her as she jumped to her feet, making her way to a pile of asphalt that marked a former walking path, and from there past the splintered remains of a tree. "Where are we --?"

"There was just one more I was worried about. I know it's foolish, that they're just empty vessels, but --" Then she saw another familiar stone, a simple piece of granite now broken in half. Right beside it lay the casket, splattered with dirt and shattered into splinters, and the sight of that made her stop short.

"We haven't got here yet," Riley told her in a hushed voice.

Bracing herself, Buffy moved forward and shoved the remains of the casket aside, exposing the interior lining and a shredded pillow. But no body. No human remains at all.

She turned a questioning gaze on Riley. "You're sure --"

"I'm sure."

She looked down at the casket for a long time before murmuring the name, in a small voice:

"Tara?"

#

Robin Woods leaned over to pull on his socks, then gave up the effort and sat straight until his stitched up abdomen stopped throbbing.

He considered himself lucky, really he did. He had taken on what amounted to an army of super-vampires led by the very First Evil, suffered a near fatal wound, and still lived to tell the tale. And, he managed to fit in a really great roll in the hay with a hot vampire slayer.

Just the same, Robin wished he had slayer healing powers, right now. The injured slayers, some of them hurt as badly as him, had all been released from this Los Angeles hospital. They'd had no problems beyond suffering through tests by disbelieving doctors, and sweating out how good Andrew was at manufacturing fake ID's -- since most of them were still under eighteen and had no parental supervision.

But Robin ended up stuck here for another week, and still hurt despite what the doctors described as an excellent physique. He's better be in good shape, after spending all his life in training to fight the forces of evil -- no junk food, no sitting around on the couch watching basketball -- but hitting the gym every day just didn't prepare a person for having hit gut sliced open.

Well, he'd have some free time now, until he healed enough to start workouts again. Just as Robin decided to walk on out barefoot the door opened, and still another young doctor walked in. Dark haired, slim, wearing glasses and a somewhat world weary look, the man adjusted a too-large lab coat and looked Robin up and down. "I'm told you're leaving against medical advice."

The man had a refined English accent so much like Rupert Giles' that Robin jumped -- which brought a sharp pain in his belly. "I've signed all the paperwork," he said defensively. "And the other doctors assured me I'd heal up okay as long as I didn't do anything crazy, like move."

"Crazy is exactly their concern. For all practical purposes you were dead when they airlifted you to the trauma center, and you still refuse to tell the police what happened to you. It's hardly any wonder they suspect you'll do something foolish."

They? Wasn't this guy a they? "Believe me, I have no plans to do any adventuring this summer."

"Plans tend to go awry when one spends time around Buffy Summers."

Robin stared with new interest at the man, who smiled grimly and offered a hand. "Allow me -- I'm Wesley Windham-Price, of Angel Investigations. Faith asked me to pick you up, since she has to keep a low profile while in this city."

Robin gestured at Wesley's lab coat. "You're all doctored up."

"I've managed to convince them I'm your personal physician, under the theory it will cut down on suspicion, but we should move quickly. Can I assist?"

"Um . . . could you help me get my socks and shoes on?"

It took only a few minutes to collect Robin's meager belongings and check out, and when they reached the curb Robin found a sleek limousine waiting for them. He climbed in with some difficulty, and was relieved to see Faith waiting inside. "Take us to the meeting place, please," Wesley said to the driver, after closing the door behind them.

"Sure thing, sweetcakes." The car pulled smoothly away from the curb, while Robin took in the fact that their driver was green. Not green as in carsick, but more a Shrek green.

He pointed that out to Faith, who shrugged. "Guy's name is Lorne. He's a big muckety-muck in Angel's organization, doing us a favor to keep my presence here under wraps."

Lorne gave them an okay sign. "And I've got a license now, so it's cool."

Faith leaned forward to give Robin a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I was going to jump your bones, but you're looking a little pale -- for you."

Looking uncomfortable, Wesley cleared his throat. "I've arranged a car for you, which will be waiting at a lot near the edge of town. Faith's murder conviction has been expunged and the escape warrant dropped, but she's still rather unpopular with the local police."

Startled, Faith turned to him. "My conviction --"

"A personal favor, from Angel. He feels you've redeemed yourself."

That was great news -- once they left town, Faith would no longer have to worry about being a wanted fugitive -- but she looked troubled. "So, Angel's got some pull now, huh?"

"Indeed." Wesley looked even more troubled.

"And does that have anything to do with why he didn't show today?"

"Angel has been quite preoccupied since he took control of Wolfram and Hart, but he sends his best."

"Wes, what does Angel think he's doing, going into the lion's den like that? The local demons are more afraid of Wolfram and Hart than they are of Angel -- or me. Word is they're the baddest of the bad."

Robin had a feeling there was a great deal of undercurrent in this conversation, so he elected to stay out of it. Instead Wesley, who looked more morose by the second, answered Faith.

"Angel feels he can effect change from within, and I'm hopeful . . ." He trailed off, not looking hopeful at all. "At any rate, wish Mr. Giles luck with his new endeavor, wherever the new Watcher's Council may be located."

Robin had a feeling Wesley new exactly where the new Council was, and remembered Wesley himself had once been a Watcher. "Good luck to all of us; it's a dangerous game we play."

"Indeed." Wesley turned his full attention to Robin, so intently that Robin felt uncomfortable. "What about you? What are your plans now?"

"Me?" Robin exchanged glances with Faith. One of the things that attracted them to each other was that they both worried only about joining in the fight, and didn't think much about plans beyond the latest battle. "Well, I suppose I'll hook back up with Giles and see where we go from there."

Wesley looked through the tinted window, watching as the car turned from a freeway onto a side street near the outskirts of the city. "Mr. Giles suggested I join him in reforming the Watcher's Council."

Robin turned to Faith, who had filled him in on her history with the Council. Sure enough, she looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "That's quite a compliment, Wes," Faith said, "assuming there should be another Watcher's Council. They've got some crimes of their own to answer for, if you ask me."

Wesley didn't deny it, but he pointed out, "Any alleged crimes were done by Council members who are no longer alive. In fact, as far as I know, Mr. Giles and I are the only living people who ever served as Watchers, so -- If there should be Watchers -- now might be a time to start with a clean slate."

Faith leaned back in her seat, looking completely unconvinced. "Maybe you could be on the Council's goon squad, Robin. I had some fun times taking them on."

Wesley interrupted, clearly not wanting to rehash those old issues again. "Actually, Mr. Giles asked what I thought about the possibility of Robin becoming a Watcher."

Robin stared at him. Faith stared at him. Lorne, who has paused at a stop light, stared at them all. It was, as Faith said later, a regular stare fest.

Then Robin, just because he knew it would get under her skin, turned a sly smile on Faith. "Wouldn't that make me your boss?"

"I don't think so," she snapped, but he could tell she was intrigued. "As much as I hate to admit it, the new slayers do need help, and you've got experience both as a fighter and a teacher. Me -- I'd be more like an independent operator."

"Actually . . ." Robin could tell Wesley was choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps your best position would be in something of a mentor role for the younger slayers."

Faith blinked. "Younger?"

"A big sister, if you will, someone to show them the ropes --"

"Hey, I'm still young!"

Robin chuckled, despite himself. "Or maybe a drill sergeant."

"Yes, well --"

"Guys, I am _not_ that old."

The car glided to a stop, and Wesley glanced out with some relief. "Oh, we're here. Well --" He paused, leaned forward, then cast a look at his guests. "And we have a visitor. Perhaps you should continue this discussion with someone who'll be there to see it through."

Robin and Faith leaned forward. They saw a woman wearing a flowery sundress, dark glasses, and a wide brimmed straw hat that didn't conceal the yellow strands of hair flying in the breeze that blew through the suburban parking lot. She leaned against a red Mustang, arms crossed, with an expression that could have been deadly serious or more of a fashion model cool. The only sign that there might be anything different about her was the size of the crucifix at her neck, and the hilt of a knife showing from a scabbard at her belt -- which the unknowing would assume to be a decorative cell phone.

"There's my girl," Faith said with a smile. "Always the most stylish slayer."

#

Cheeseman was beside himself. Literally.

Actually, he was beside a life size statue of himself, made of the best Wisconsin American -- his favorite -- which had popped into being when he snapped his fingers during a moment of boredom. But now things were heating up, and he'd forgotten the statue in favor of throwing a temper tantrum.

"Where did those vampires come from? They could have ruined everything!"

Beside him, Ozma was also looking into the huge, floor length mirror, but she acted as though it was a real mirror -- she had removed her flowers and crown and slowly drew a brush through the long black strands of her hair. If she saw in the mirror the image of Xander, Dawn, Kara and Jason battling the vampires in the coffee shop, she gave no sign, but she clearly knew what had happened. "They said they came from Cleveland."

"But why _leave_ there? What business did _they_ have with the slayer's sister?"

Sweet mused on that for a moment. "Perhaps someone else has stumbled onto the same scheme you have, and is trying to make it happen for themselves."

"But I'm the greatest force of evil on the planet. At the moment. I'm the cheesiest!"

"No one would deny that," Sweet soothed. "But you know how this business goes: Someone else always wants to see their name in lights."

Ozma paused in her brushing to give Sweet a speculative look, then turned to Cheeseman. "I'd forgotten how competitive all you Earth centered demons can be. Yes, I think you're right -- someone else either wants their own army of slayers, or wants to prevent you from getting one."

"Well, that's not going to happen." Cheeseman snapped his fingers. "Starting now, we move the timetable up. Right after lunch. Salad and three-cheese dressing."

"Do you think you should take the time?" Sweet asked.

"There's always time for cheese."


	6. Missions

CHAPTER SIX

Kara's father sat in his favorite easy chair, surrounded by stacks of books, in what was normally his most relaxing place in the world -- his bookshelf lined study near the center of their old house. He sat back, tapping his pursed lips with a finger, and studied the four people lined up on the couch before him.

"So. Kara is a vampire slayer."

Kara heard the one eyed man beside her gulp, as if meeting his date's father for the first time. "Yes, sir."

"And you're the -- head slayer's -- best friend."

"We haven't actually come up with a special name for her yet, but -- yeah."

"She's the last of the, um, single slayers," Dawn offered.

Richard turned his frown on her. "And you're that slayer's sister."

"Uh huh."

"Acting as an emissary, seeking out more slayers."

Dawn nodded. "And Watchers."

"Yes, Watchers. People who . . . watch."

"And train," Xander added. "And advise, and research. Like teachers, only Watchers actually help people."

Uh oh, Kara thought, as she nudged him. "Xander, did I forget to mention my dad was a teacher for ten years?"

"Boy, you sure did." Red faced, Xander held a hand up. "Not that teachers don't help people. 'Cause they do. And if I'd let my teachers help me more, I'd know when to shut up."

Richard peered at Xander over the rim of his glasses, giving the impression he was looking down his nose at the young man. "So true."

On the other edge of the couch from Kara, Jason raised his hand. "Can I say something?"

"No. You're going to have enough trouble explaining why the coffee shop got wrecked and then abandoned, while you made no attempt to call the police."

"The police couldn't help," Dawn told him. "They'd only bring guns." Xander gave her a half smile, then turned back to Richard.

"The thing is, sir, having those vampires show up means they know we came here, and the one who survived saw how well Kara fought, so he has to have it all figured out by now --"

"She fought well, then?" For the first time, a slight smile played on Richard's lips, and Kara felt a glow inside.

"She sure did," Dawn said.

"She kicked ass," Jason added, which got him a blistering look from Richard.

"Focus, people." Xander held two fingers up. "We really need to one, find this potential Watcher, and two, get Kara somewhere she can be trained safely."

"Safe is hardly a word that would describe her circumstances if I let her go. Besides, vampires can't come in the house uninvited, and they can't come out in daylight. It seems to me she's safest if she stays here."

"Stuck inside the house all night, every night?" Kara asked her father. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of being part of a group of demon fighters. Could a future career _be_ any more exciting? Besides, Dawn was only a few years older than her.

"Wait a minute," Xander interrupted. "How did you know vampires can't come in a home unless they're invited?"

"Research." Richard gestured to the stack of old books beside him, then picked one up. He whipped off his glasses and set them aside, then began leafing through the volume. "I suppose I had a premonition something was happening, because I've developed somewhat of a fascination with the occult in recent weeks. Vampires, werewolves, demons, succubi -- all fascinating." He paused on a page. "I've even found a very vague reference to something called The Rising of the Slayers, which I'd imagine is the event you're saying your witch caused."

Xander and Dawn glanced at each other.

"I never thought I'd make use of those Latin classes," Richard muttered to himself as he grabbed up another book. "And I also never thought these things were anything but myth, but I trust my daughter." Putting the book aside, he speared Kara with a glance. "Not enough to send a fifteen year old girl to Chicago in the hands of perfect strangers, you understand."

"Oh, we're not perfect," Xander said. Dawn punched him in the arm.

Richard shoved his glasses back on. "Assuming all this is true, the next question is, how are you going to find this potential Watcher? His job description is so general. He could be a teacher, police officer, our martial arts instructor, or my personal favorite: a man jailed as a lunatic for putting forth crazy theories." Looking frustrated, he yanked his glasses off again, pulled a white handkerchief from his sweater pocket, and began cleaning them. "The texts are not at all clear on how to choose a Watcher."

Xander looked at Dawn. Dawn looked at Xander. They both grinned. "He doesn't have an accent . . ." Dawn began.

"Actually, it's kind of a southern-midwestern twang," Xander told her. "But other than that, the similarities are uncanny."

As he spoke, Kara figured it out for herself and jumped in her seat. "Oh!" That would solve a few problems, although unfortunately it also meant hanging out with her father. "Dad loves to travel."

Richard looked up at them. "What?"

#

In an alley near downtown Cleveland, two girls were fighting.

Actually, if you looked closely, one of the girls had a strangely ridged face and long, sharp fangs. This came as no surprise to the fight's only witness, a young witch who had seen more vampires then she cared to remember.

This vampire, like most, seemed to have developed an innate fighting ability, despite the fact that she still wore the nun's habit she had apparently been buried in. She spun around, her fist almost ramming into the back of Kennedy's neck, but the slayer ducked and landed a punch with her left hand that drove the vamp back.

Willow wasn't a big fan of the violence, but she wasn't overly worried about one vampire -- Kennedy had a good teacher. Sure enough, Kennedy dashed forward before the vampire had a chance to recover, and drove a stake into its chest. After one very brief look of surprise, the thing exploded into dust that was carried away on a slight breeze.

"So," Kennedy said, thrusting the stake back into a leather loop on her belt, "There are vampires in Cleveland."

"No big surprise." Willow wrapped her arms around Kennedy and kissed her on the cheek. "Still, we've been here over two days and that's the first supernatural thingy that's popped up. That's kind of strange, for a hellmouth. Maybe they heard you were coming."

"Maybe they heard _we_ were coming." Kennedy kissed her back, this time on the mouth, and lingered there for a moment. "After all, we're the dream team."

"Maybe." Arm in arm, the two began making their way back to the street they'd been meandering down when they spotted the vamp. "But we also haven't found any trace of our missing slayer. No strange articles in the newspapers, no rumors on the streets -- suppose something already got to her?"

"But no bodies were found. Unless the authorities are keeping it under wraps?"

"Ah." Willow nodded. "Let's find one of those internet cafe's, and I'll do some hacking into the official records. We'll save the magic for last, since that's been known to stir up the baddies."

"You," Kennedy said, pulling her closer, "are a wise woman."

"And you -- are hot."

"Is that what you love me for? My hot bod?"

"It's a start."

Pushing against each other, the two women wandered into the cone of light thrown by a street lamp, and kept going toward a more populated area of town. The presence that followed them, barely visible in the dark alley, disappeared in the reflected illumination, but didn't hesitate to follow.

#

Rupert Giles was going insane.

Every time he tried to retreat into the library for some good, solid research -- or at least for some quiet time for himself -- someone followed him. This time Rona, Chao-Ahn and Vi stood in front of his desk, while his tea grew cold in its cup before him.

To make matters worse, all three of the girls were rather underdressed, which he found extremely disconcerting. Rona wore only a daring black leotard, Vi's red shorts and Chicago Cubs belly baring tank top left little to the imagination, and Chao-Ahn had walked in soaked, wearing only a white bath towel. Clearly there was a story to be told behind that, but Giles wasn't thrilled about the idea of hearing it.

Vi and Rona both burst out at the same time:

"One of us needs to be in charge --"

"Her training routine isn't working at all --"

Giles held up a hand. "One moment. Buffy is in charge."

"But Buffy's not back from California yet," Rona protested, "and neither is Faith. You've been busy setting up the facilities and tracking down the new Watchers and slayers, so those of us who started training the earliest should help the others with their conditioning."

Vi nodded. "Rona's not paying enough attention to finesse, and centering --"

"Centering! How about center mass, as in hitting? The girls need to develop their physical strength before they get into that kung fu crap."

Now Vi shook her head. "The girls are slayers -- they _have_ physical strength. But that doesn't help if they can't keep their cool, and stay on target."

"Ladies, please." Giles tapped one of the books on his desk. "What about their mental education? Identification of their enemies, the reason for their mission, their history and --" He stopped when he saw the blank looks on the slayers' faces. Had there ever really been a time when slayers were obedient and eager to learn? "See here -- you've each been given a copy of the Slayer's Handbook. Buffy will be back in just a few days, and in that time I suggest you all do some reading. Almost all of these girls are still under eighteen, and most don't have a high school diploma, so sooner or later we're going to have to --"

He stopped when he saw the expressions on Vi and Rona's faces. "I daresay you didn't look this terrified when you descended into the Hellmouth. Perhaps I've gotten through to you, then, and you'll give me a few moments of peace before I send you all back to public school. Now, at least start going through your handbook, and I'll work out a balance of learning, skills and physical development." He turned to the other slayer, who had remained silent. "Chao-Ahn? What can I do for you?"

The Chinese girl held up an empty box. "Tampons?"

Giles felt the blush spreading up his face. Luckily, Vi and Rona forget their differences and immediately started fussing over their friend, promising a loan from their personal supply and a nasty reminder to their supply clerk to order more. Within seconds, in a burst of noise, they left the library, and Giles sat back with a sigh.

The tea cup had barely reached his lips when the door burst open again and Andrew stomped in -- as much as someone his size could stomp. "Mr. Giles, the girls are picking on me!"

"Does this have something to do with you forgetting to order feminine hygiene products?"

Stopping short, Andrew looked away. "Well, I can't be expected to go through the women's dorm."

"I dare say that would be a mistake, yes. I'll talk to the ladies about keeping track of their own supplies. Now, if you'll excuse me --" The computer, banished to the far corner of Giles' desk, chimed. "Oh, bother."

"You have mail," Andrew said, sounding unaccountably happy about the idea. "I've got the server set up to deliver your individual e-mails straight to your desk, and any returns on inquiries about slayers or Watchers goes both to your desk and the main computer console."

Trying to ignore him, Giles tapped the "receive" button.

"Which automatically posts any sightings on the map, along with updates from locater spells. If a new slayer is identified, it plays the "Superman" theme, and a new Watcher makes it play "Close Encounters", and any demon sightings gets the Darth Vader theme from "Star Wars". John Williams is just the best, if he'd compose more classical it would get popular again, don't you think?"

Giles rubbed his temple and tried to concentrate on the message from Las Angeles. Clearly, this situation needed dealt with, but --

"But James Horner did really good on "Star Trek 2", even though he didn't have as much to work with as "The Motion Picture", which was just made for majestic music. He did great after, especially with "Apollo 13". You know, I don't think "Titanic" could ever qualify as fantasy or science fiction, even though --"

"Andrew, I want you to go to Las Angeles for a mission."

Andrew stared at him, mouth still open. Giles was astonished, too.

Two of the younger slayers burst through the door, arguing about some issue involving whose turn it was to clean up the supper dishes.

"Take some of the slayers with you," Giles said, "including those two."

The slayers stopped in their tracks.

"What --" Andrew swallowed, and started over. "You mean -- I'd be in charge?"

"Yes, yes. There's a slayer suffering some sort of emotional disturbance who's being kept in a mental institution there. Apparently Angel Investigations is about to get involved, but I don't know if we can put our trust in Angel while he's involved with Wolfram and Hart. She's a slayer. She needs to be here, with other slayers, which alone might help her mental state." Giles had qualms about sending the new slayers out, especially with Andrew, but he had to give them a mission sooner or later. Other than getting past the government red tape, he didn't see much danger here. Demonic activity was still down, and in truth he believed Angel, Wesley and the others would help shepherd Andrew and the inexperienced slayers through the situation.

"You're putting trust in me." Almost magically Andrew turned completely serious, pulling himself to attention. "Me. This is the proudest moment of my life."

The slayers looked at each other as if prepared to run for their lives.

"Andrew, one more thing. Buffy had expressed some interest in touring Europe once this business is settled. If Angel should happen to ask questions about her, it might be best if he thinks she's already on the other side of the world."

"I won't let you down." Saluting, he turned and almost ran head on into the girls. "Come on, ladies -- we have a mission!" He gave a war whoop and ran out.

The slayers sent doubtful looks at Giles. "It's all right. Just let him handle the situation, and stay out of sight until he really needs backup. It'll be good practice for all of you."

Giles had the funniest feeling his headaches were about to come down on someone else. He didn't know who, but as long as he got a week or so of relative peace -- and as long as everyone came back safely -- he didn't care.

#

Giles' two most experienced slayers were more than halfway back to Chicago. They wanted to get Robin as quickly as possible to a place where he could stretch out and recuperate in some comfort, so they'd taken turns driving day and night, while their passenger curled up on the too-small rear seat of the Mustang. Whenever they got near a city and hit heavy traffic Faith took over: Buffy held only one of Andrew's faked driver's licenses, and a notorious reputation. Still, staying on the move and violating every speed limit in existence had gotten them into Nebraska in near record time.

It was only there, with Robin snoring in the back and the setting sun glowing orange in the rear view mirror, that Buffy glanced away from the road and began to tell Faith about Tara's grave.

Faith's position -- safety belt cinched tight, legs out straight and arms gripping the dash board -- loosened as she heard the story, until she finally leaned back with a thoughtful expression. She was quiet for several minutes -- except for reminding Buffy to turn the car's headlights on -- then spoke quietly: "Tara was . . . nice."

"Everybody liked Tara," Buffy agreed. Willow, Dawn, Spike -- even Tara's killer had been aiming at someone else. And yet such terrible things kept happening to the poor girl.

"But, what does it mean?" Hearing a soft noise from the back seat, Faith craned her neck to watch Robin with a concerned expression, then turned back to Buffy and lowered her voice. "Could Tara be alive?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, that's not it. Tara died a natural death --"

Faith snorted. "If you call being shot natural."

"Well, not a mystical death, anyway. There are rules." Buffy realized she sounded a little bitter. Sometimes, on bad days, she wished she could trade her second chance at life to bring Tara back. "Magical deaths can be undone, but when it's your time to go in an earthly way you'd better hope Xander's around to do CPR." That made her think of her mother, and she willed herself not to tear up.

"I suppose if there was a way to bring Tara back, Willow would have," Faith said. "So -- what? Could the body have been buried under some more debris, or just -- um -- deteriorated?"

"We looked. And -- well, there would have been _something_ still in the casket. Riley double checked to make sure the burial detail didn't get there first, but no joy. We have to face the possibility that it may have been stolen. She was a witch, after all, and maybe there was some mystical energy still there, something someone could use."

Faith shivered. "What an awful thought, that she could have been dropped into a cauldron. Should we tell Willow?"

"Absolutely not. She's happy with Kennedy now, and I don't think stirring this up again would do anyone any good. I'll discuss it with Giles when we get back."

"Yeah, it'll wait until -- Buffy!"

Something loomed up on the highway in front of them. Buffy jerked the wheel to the right and slammed on the brakes, and she felt the Mustang shudder as it veered off the pavement and into high grass. It angled down into a ditch while Buffy stood on the brakes and told herself she'd never drive again -- ever.

A moment later the car shuddered to a halt, and Buffy jammed the transmission into park as Faith released her seat belt and turned toward the back. "Robin?"

"I'm okay," he said, his voice weak. "Slept through most of it. What happened?"

"I think a deer ran out in front of us."

"I think it was a moose," Buffy said as she opened the door and climbed out, planning to check for damage. "Maybe an elephant. Or a dinosaur."

Straightening, she glanced up and saw a form at the edge of the road, silhouetted against the twilight. She'd been closer to being right with elephant, only this thing stood on two legs. She saw gleaming red eyes, one straight horn that rose to a point over its brow, and -- at the end of muscular arms -- claws on the end of fingers that flexed, looking for flesh to dig into. As Buffy watched, two similar forms stalked up beside it, then all three started down the embankment toward the wrecked car.

"Faith," Buffy said, "it wasn't a deer."


	7. Ambush

CHAPTER SEVEN

Responding to the stress in Buffy's voice, Faith climbed out of the car. "What -- oh." She shut the door behind her, then reached into the trunk to pull out a bag full of weapons. "Coincidence?"

"I don't think so." As Buffy pulled out her favorite ax and Faith grabbed a crossbow, the creatures continued to advance and also separate, attempting to flank the pair. Buffy saw they had thick green skin, nasty looking fangs, and some kind of chain mail for clothing. "This is a good old fashioned ambush. I wonder why they didn't just roll something onto the roadway that we might actually hit, to make their job easier."

"Maybe they felt up for a fight -- like I do." Faith aimed the crossbow at the nearest demon and let loose a bolt. Flying true, it impacted the thing right in the center of the chest -- and bounced off.

"Would you like to rethink that attitude?" Robin asked, from where he peered through the rear window.

"I never rethink my attitudes." In one swift motion she reloaded, aimed and fired again, and this time the bolt avoided the primitive body armor and struck the creature right between the eyes.

And bounced off.

"Uh oh." That's all Faith got out before she found herself flying through the air, sporting a nasty series of gashes across her arm.

Buffy saw it all, but by that time the other two creatures were nearing. She tried for a trick shot, swinging the ax to slice one's head off, then continue the arc to catch the second one. The razor sharp ax blade shattered on first impact, jarring Buffy's arm right up to the shoulder.

The demon staggered back one step, slapped a hand over the slight crease in its neck, then kept on coming.

"My favorite ax!" She used the handle as a spear, throwing all her weight into the blow, but the beast grabbed it out of her hand and swung it around at her head. She barely ducked in time, and when she came back the other one was on her. She dodged its slashing claw, then had to throw herself back to avoid a kick.

This was not working. Faith had disappeared into the shadows, and the third demon had stopped in its tracks to examine the Mustang. If Buffy couldn't beat her two, she had to at least get them away from the car before Robin decided to join the fight. "Come on, boys -- you want a slayer, I'll give you a chase." She bounced a stake off the skull of one, then scooped up her bag of tricks and dashed further into the gully.

After about fifty feet she landed in a slight depression, invisible in the rapidly darkening ditch, and fell face first into the brush. They'd be right behind her -- she yanked a sword from the bag and got to her feet, ready to make a quick strike and flee again.

They weren't right behind her.

In fact, all three now stood around the car, staring into it. She glimpsed Robin's face, a mix of concentration and pain as he tried to figure out how to defeat something uninjured slayers hadn't phased. "Robin, get behind the wheel! Drive away!" She dashed toward the monsters again, sword held high.

In the same instant, a large rock emerged from the shadows and banged into one of the demons. Faith followed at full speed, swinging a huge chunk of wood she'd scooped up.

With speed shocking for its size, one monster spun around, lowered its head, and impaled Faith on its horn.

Buffy saw the same thing coming. Two handed, she swung the sword with all her might, coming down on the head of the demon closest to her. It glanced off the thing's skull, and to her surprise chipped off its horn. With a scream of pain and rage, the demon batted at her with its arm, and Buffy found herself spinning through the air.

She came down hard, and screamed as she felt her shoulder pulled out of its socket. The pain was so blinding that for a moment she almost passed out, but she forced herself to stay conscious when she realized, this time, one of them had followed her. The now hornless one, who looked very, very mad. A thin stream of green blood flowed from the jagged base of the horn.

Blood. With her good right arm, Buffy jerked out the thin dagger she kept strapped to her waist -- the only weapon she had left. The demon came at her, arms outstretched, roaring in rage, and just as it reached her she leaped straight into the air, trying to ignore the stabbing pain.

The demon stabbed at her with both hands, its claws sweeping through space as she scissored her legs apart to avoid them.

With all the strength she could muster, Buffy jammed the dagger down into the socket where the horn had been, and was rewarded to see it sink in all the way to the hilt before the thing collided with her, and they both fell hard to the ground.

When Buffy regained consciousness she was looking into the Demon's own red eyes, now unfocused and unseeing. It still quivered, as if trying one last time to reach her, but this time it was down for good. "You'd better be dead," Buffy gasped. "That's the last time you horn in on me."

Faith. Robin.

She wouldn't do them any good in this position. Sitting up, Buffy gripped her now useless left arm with her right hand. "This is really going to hurt." She gritted her teeth, then pulled with her strength.

It really did hurt.

She opened her eyes to again see black sky above, but this time she had movement and feeling -- lots of feeling -- in her arm. Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she got her bearings and stumbled toward the car.

There is was, looking relatively undamaged, and with not a demon to be seen. Several yards beyond, a body lay unmoving in the dirt, and Buffy headed toward it. She glanced into the Mustang as she passed.

Empty.

Faith was still breathing -- thank God. Buffy pulled the other slayer's shirt up to reveal a nasty, horn sized hole in her abdomen, from a blow that had probably broken one or two floating ribs. The bleeding had already slowed, thanks to Faith's mystical healing ability -- how long had Buffy been out?

"Buffy?" Faith's eyes fluttered open, and she drew a shuddering breath. "The demons --"

"Gone. And my outfit is ruined." Buffy ripped off part of her dress -- now it was a minidress -- and used it to bandage Faith's wound, although every movement made her shoulder scream in pain.

"R-Robin?"

There was no point in putting it off. "Also gone. I think the demons took him, but there's no sign they hurt him." If they'd planned to hurt Robin she'd have found him -- or parts of him -- still lying around.

"But . . . why?"

"That's the question of the day." She made sure Faith was as comfortable as possible, then prepared to search the area -- although she already knew nothing would be found. "Don't worry, Faith. We didn't come this far together to lose any one of us now. We'll get this sorted out."

#

The argument at Kara's house went on far into the night.

There were interruptions: one by a call from Jason's irate father, who was so mad he told his son not the bother coming home, and the other from the police, who took statements about the gang fight at the coffee house. But between those times, the group reached a stalemate -- because all the evidence the visitors gave Richard about the existence of evil beings was purely circumstantial.

In the end, Kara settled the argument when she left to get a drink of water in the kitchen, and saw a shadowy figure standing near the edge of the back yard. She called Xander, Dawn, Jason and Richard to the window, waiting until they were ready before she flipped on the outside flood light.

The vampire who had escaped the coffee house shielded his eyes, but merely looked annoyed at having been discovered. That emboldened Kara, who opened the back door door despite a panicked yelp from her father. "What do you want?"

The vampire grinned, exposing the points of his fangs. "The slayer's sister."

"Why?"

For a moment the vamp looked oddly confused. "Orders."

"Who gave the orders?"

The vampire grinned again. "Why don't you invite me in, and we'll discuss it?"

"If you're thirsty, there's a garden hose right by your feet." Kara shut the door and turned to her father. "Any more questions?"

"Yes -- how do we catch it alive? We need to find out what it's really up to, and how it found your friends here."

"You could turn on your bug zapper," Xander suggested.

"Xander . . ." Dawn shivered. "You know, sometimes I think I only get attention when I don't want it."

Kara only half listened to them. She was glad to have her father convinced now, and the idea of being a slayer excited her more as she thought about it, but there was a much more immediate concern. If they just took off for Chicago and left the vampire behind, it would mean more than not getting any answers. It would mean her friends and neighbors being next on the food chain. "We have about six hours to figure this out. After that it'll start getting light, and our friend will go find someplace to hide."

"Well, he's not hiding now," Jason pointed out. "Look."

Sure enough, the vampire was waving his arms and shouting something. Kara cracked the door open, and they heard quite clearly, "Look out! They're coming!"

"Something's coming?" Kara glanced around at the others, who were so rattled by the warning that they stepped away from the door, into the combined kitchen-dining area that took up the back of the house. "Something a vampire would try to warn us about?"

"Clearly, he's just trying to fool with us." Richard glanced nervously behind him. "And at any rate, nothing can come in without being invited."

That comment made Xander look nervous. "Well, actually, while it's true vampires can't come in --"

At that instant, something came in without being invited. Two somethings, in fact -- one through the front door, and one through the back. They were huge and green, and covered with sharp things, and when the nearest one turned Kara saw it's eyes glowed an evil red.

"Demons can come in," Xander finished, and by the time the words were out he'd drawn and fired the small crossbow he'd insisted on taking inside.

It bounced off the hide of the nearest creature, who had smashed through the kitchen door. It turned to him with a huge grin. "Silly human. If the slayers couldn't harm us, how could you?"

"Like this." Richard, looking enraged, smashed a barstool over the thing's back.

"You're brave. I'll let you live." The demon grabbed Xander and Richard in its two meaty hands and tossed them through the nearest wall.

By that time Kara reached the kitchen's knife drawer and grabbed up sharp objects as fast as she could, hurtling them at the beast. One bounced off and embedded itself in the wall where Dawn stood, so Dawn grabbed it up and made a move toward the attacker. Before she could use the knife, the demon who had entered through the front reached the end of the main hallway and grabbed her from behind, hauling her backward.

The first demon now moved in, ignoring Jason as it stalked toward where its brother struggled with Dawn. Jason would have none of that -- he opened the gun rack on the far side of the dining area and hauled out a World War 2 era M-1 carbine. "Lock and load! Take that, evildoer!" He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

"Jason!" Kara had just pulled a bag of flour and box of matches from a cabinet, but paused to yell across to her friend. "Dad doesn't keep those loaded, they're collector's items!"

"Oh." Jason grabbed the rifle by its barrel, dashed forward, and smashed the collector's item across a demon's back.

It swung around without a second thought, claws extended, and swept Jason through the wall that separated the dining area from the garage, leaving only Kara standing. She backed up to the gaping hole where the back door had been, wondering how she could kill just one of them without being torn apart by the other.

"Hey!" a voice hissed behind her. She wasn't the only one standing, after all -- the vampire hovered just outside the back door. "Invite me in!"

"And that would be useful how?"

"Okay, fine. But you're on the right track -- they're weak against fire."

Kara looked down at the items in her hand, just as the demon who wasn't struggling with Dawn turned toward her again. "Thanks heaps." She hurtled the flour at the approaching thing, and as it burst into a cloud she struck a match, set fire to the match box, and threw it, too.

She could feel the heat as the flour, mixed perfectly with air for combustion, ignited into a mini-bomb that engulfed the demon's head. It screamed and, batting at its scorched green scalp, stumbled back, then fell over a chair. "So, my chemistry teacher wasn't kidding."

"_Now_ will you invite me in?" the vampire asked.

"Fine. Come on in." How much worse could her situation be, when she had to ask for assistance from a vampire? Kara reached behind her for a shard of wood left over from the smashed barstool, but to her surprise the vampire charged right past her. The other demon had disappeared from sight into the hallway that led to the front door, so the vampire drop kicked the injured one as it struggled to get up. He swung around and kicked it again, as Kara moved in to help.

But the demon, with amazing speed, grabbed the vampire by one leg and swung it through the air. The vamp rammed into Kara, and she felt stabs of pain all over as the impact forced her back into the kitchen. The vampire landed beside her and gasped, "More fire."

"Right." She reached up to turn on a stove burner, then stuffed a dish towel into the gas flame. The demon was headed for them again, but hesitated when she straightened up, the flaming rag in her hand. "Get back." With her free hand, she fumbled behind her through the cabinet.

"Your little flame can't stop me," the creature said in a low, rumbling voice, but it still hesitated.

Kara found what she was looking for, but as she started to fling the glass bottle of lamp oil, she realized only a few ounces of the liquid remained. Not enough, unless she could use it to kindle a bigger fire. "Crapweasel."

"I'll slow it down." The vampire flung itself at the demon again, and the two things fell to the ground, with the green monster quickly gaining the upper hand. The vamp, desperately trying to keep a hold, screamed, "I'll never survive in a world with two armies of slayers, anyway! Do what you have to."

With mixed feelings, Kara hurdled the bottle, then the rag.

A moment later she used the fire extinguisher by the kitchen door to douse the flames that licked at the demon's corpse. Of the vampire, nothing remained.

With the battle done, the house lay in a deathly quiet. She glanced around at the various ragged openings where walls used to be, and knew it was time to do a body count.

She found her father, ironically, draped over his easy chair in the study, just coming around. "Kara -- you're all right?" When she nodded, he reached out an unsteady hand to the table beside him for a half full, and miraculously unbroken, bottle of brandy, poured some into an equally uninjured glass, and waved her off. "Go check the others, I'll be able to walk eventually."

Xander lay in the bathtub, covered in ceiling tile and unconscious, but breathing.

Jason lay in the garage, face down. She carefully turned him over, used clean shop towels to staunch the flow of blood from gouges across his chest, and returned to her search.

Dawn had disappeared, along with the surviving demon.

After doing a quick patrol through the house Kara reached for the kitchen phone, then paused. Clearly Jason -- at least -- needed medical attention. But how would they explain all this? More importantly, how long would it take to explain? Something big was up, so big that it was forcing different groups to fight over The Slayer's sister. That was the only answer to the vampire's actions -- it had wanted Dawn for some other purpose. For a hostage? Blackmail? To get Buffy Summers to do something, or to keep her from doing something? They had to find answers fast, because the bad guys were doing pretty well for themselves, so far.

She limped back into the garage and cast a sympathetic eye on her friend. The bleeding had stopped, and his respirations were more regular. "Hold on, Jason. We're going to get you to help, but it might not be the closest hospital."

#

"So I'm a slayer."

The petite black girl -- petite was putting it mildly, Willow thought -- turned from Willow to Kennedy, a suspicious look on her face.

They found her, ironically, when Kennedy leafed through the sports section in their motel room. Trina was her name, and after years of struggling she had suddenly exploded into the top of women's gymnastics, despite being only fourteen. Overnight, she seemed to be at the top of her game. In fact, Willow and Kennedy had found her in a small gym near the edge of town, practicing her routine late at night, even after her coach had gone home. The girl wore a purple leotard, had draped a towel over her shoulders, and was covered with some kind of chalky dust that made Willow want to sneeze.

"Just like me," Kennedy offered.

Trina nodded, but looked at Willow. "And you're a witch."

"I'm a good witch." She did a little spin. "See? No green skin, no warts." She waited, while the girl continued to size them up. "I could do some magic?"

"I believe you, I think." Trina shrugged. "Sometimes strange things happen around here, and people just pretend they don't."

"I know just how that is." Despite growing up on a hellmouth, Willow had been in high school before she finally had to admit that the world was much stranger than any adult would ever say.

"But . . ." Trina looked around the gym, at the balance beam, vault, uneven parallel bars, and finally at the empty bleachers on either side of the relatively small area. "It's not like anybody would miss me if I left the foster home. But after all this time I'm finally -- well -- popular. I'd have to give up my chances at a gold medal."

"You'd be fighting to keep the world safe." Kennedy sounded impatient. "If not for slayers, places like Cleveland would be big smears in the dirt."

Willow decided to play to the girl's quest for glory. "You'd be just like Spider-man, only you'd be more like Spider Girl."

For the first time since they met her Trina smiled, but it was a smile much too cynical and world-weary for a fourteen year old. "You mean nobody would know who I really was, and I'd have no friends and family?"

Oops. Wrong hero. But before Willow could recover another, much more masculine voice interrupted.

"Yes, that's exactly what she means, child." They turned to see something that stood at least two feet taller than Kennedy, standing at the gym's main entrance. Its eyes glowed red, and it was covered with sharp horns and claws. "Stay out of this, and you can still be in your silly competition."

Turning to Trina, Kennedy poked a thumb toward the demon. "See, that's the kind of thing that jumps out at you on a Hellmouth. Better to face something like that with other slayers, don't you think?"

Trina just stared at the thing, mouth and eyes wide.

"I am having a very bad time," the demon announced, stalking toward the girls. "I've lost my brothers this day, and I am in no mood for pre-fight banter, so I will make this plain." It pointed a finger at Willow. "I've come for the witch. Give her to me or die."

"Oh boy," Willow said.

"The only thing about you that scares me is your breath." Kennedy took three steps to the vault, ripped it from its anchors, and sent it flying at the approaching monster.

With one quick chop, it ripped the vault in half.

"And the claws," Kennedy added. "And the eyes, those are a little creepy. Run!"

But Willow, who'd run from such things far too often in her life, had a few tricks up her own sleeve. Whispering a quick incantation, she waved a hand to produce a magical shield that shimmered between them and the demon.

It paused. "You're powerful, as was said." Then it walked through as if the barrier was air. "You'll do."

"Oh boy," Willow repeated. Another quick spell produced similar results.

"Willow!" Kennedy yelled. "Off the mat!"

Looking down, Willow realized she was on one end of a runner that led to the vault, and the creature had just stepped onto the other end. She stepped back as Kennedy grabbed an edge of the mat, while Trina instantly saw the plan and took another edge. Together, they jerked.

The demon tumbled head over heals, while the two slayers dashed for the uneven bars and tore them from their mounts. "A little bauble on the dismount!" Trina yelled as the thing climbed unsteadily to its feet.

"Trina," Willow warned, "don't tease the inhuman killer."

Thrown like spears, the two bars sped toward the creature's chest. It grabbed them out of midair and hurtled them back, forcing the slayers to tumble out of the way. "No perfect ten for you," it announced.

"Hey," Willow protested, "don't tease the slayer trainee!"

With the demon's attention diverted toward Willow, Trina whispered something Willow couldn't hear into Kennedy's ear. Nodding, the older slayer picked up the nearest weapon she could find -- Trina -- and sent her flying across the gym. Spinning in midair like a cat, Trina aimed a perfect kick at the creature's head.

It whirled and knocked her to the floor, where she lay dazed, clutching her leg.

"Not good." Willow angled toward Kennedy, who desperately searched for another weapon. Surely there was something in Willow's bag of magic tricks that would help, but the thing had walked right through her most powerful protection spell. "Kennedy? Anything?"

"Got a grenade in your purse?"

"My purse is in the car. And no." They backed up together, as the demon stalked steadily toward them.

Then a flickering orange blaze enveloped it. In a panic the creature backed off, twisting and turning as it slapped at the flames. It was a magic, Willow knew, but the creature didn't seem to realize the flames were just an illusion. She looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from, and saw --

"Um -- Kennedy?"

The slayer also turned. In the corner of the room a figure floated in midair, long hair flowing around it. Its arms were outstretched, and although it appeared to be female Willow couldn't make out its face because of a bright white glow that emanated from it. When it lowered its arms, the flames disappeared from around the demon. Then it just hovered there, appearing to watch them.

"Friend of yours?" Kennedy asked.

"It's an aural projection -- I think." Willow continued to stare at the apparition, wondering why it seemed so familiar to her. But then she heard the demon roar, and at the same moment their visitor vanished. "It was an illusion. The flames, I mean. Whatever it was, it couldn't actually hurt the demon."

"Then what good did it do us?" Kennedy took Willow's arm, dragging her away from the enraged creature as it started toward them again. "If it could have stuck around and kept scaring it with fire --"

"Scaring -- oh, of course." Willow pulled away from Kennedy, waved her hands in an intricate pattern, and murmured a verse of Latin.

The demon burst into flames and fell, screaming, to the floor. In seconds, it was all over.

"It came to the gym and fired up," Kennedy said, staring at the smoldering corpse.

"Hah, hah." Feeling immense relief, Willow took Kennedy into her arms. "I think we've overstayed our welcome here."

"Yeah. Someone not only knows we're here, but wants you. We'd better report back and figure this thing out." She kissed Willow, and took a moment to run her hand through her lover's red hair.

"Hey!" They turned to see Trina, who had levered herself into a sitting position while she favored her ankle. "Are you two . . . you know . . ."

Kennedy grinned at her. "It's not a requirement."

"Never mind." Trina shook her head. "As long as I don't have to shower with you, I want to be a slayer."


	8. Return and Regroup

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sweet stared into the magic mirror, utterly mystified. "What an appearance. What a show. What the heck was that?"

"It was a spirit." Ozma sat beside him, chin in hand, elbow resting on a small silver dressing table she had conjured up. She had replaced her crown, the huge red flowers again adorned the sides of her head, and Sweet had to admit she looked absolutely radiant. It helped that her face was glowing, as if she'd just had a wonderful revelation.

"A spirit." Cheeseman paced behind them. "A spirit that arrived just in time to show that witch the only real weakness my best warriors have."

"Had," Sweet corrected, which earned him a dirty look. He didn't add that the spirit had seemed familiar to him, somehow. Of course, he's seen a lot of ghosts in his time, and produced many himself.

He also didn't point out Ozma's expression to his partner. Ozma, whatever she or it was, seemed joyful. Clearly she knew much, much more than she was letting on.

But then, so did Sweet. He decided he would see this performance through, and see who was still around to take a curtain call.

"Well." Cheeseman paused beside the other two, visibly forcing himself to calm down. "As I mentioned earlier, Willow was only an afterthought, a way to make sure I had enough mystical energy. My original magic battery -- plan A -- is still in my possession, which means I have all I need to complete my mission. It only needs to trigger the reaction, after all. I'll have calculated the proper coordinates in about two days, and then . . ." He giggled. "Then I turn the world into fried limburger."

Ozma turned away, smile replaced by a queasy expression. Sweet, imagining a world made of smelly burned cheese, also felt his stomach flip-flop, but he again held his tongue.

After all, a lot could happen in a day or two.

#

With luck, Rupert Giles thought, nothing would happen in the next day or two.

Resting a freshly brewed cup of earl gray on the end table, he settled comfortably into an easy chair in the study, which itself was hidden away in the far corner of the vast library. There had been no word from any of his teams in the field, and since they were each equipped with a cell phone that could only mean all was going well. The slayers remaining in the building had retired to their dorm rooms early -- egged on, no doubt, by Giles' suggestion that they study their Slayer's Handbooks after supper.

That left the rest of the evening free for some quiet, light reading. Giles picked up a book on Latin translations of demonic outbreak histories, sipped his tea, and settled back with a contented sigh.

Giles decided he had outgrown the desire for constant adventuring, and grown tired of tackling crisis after crisis over the past decade. He'd tried to retire to his ancestral home in England, but another emergency had called him back, then still another. His days of wanting action, of being Ripper, were long gone, and he yearned to be that country gentleman who spent his days surrounded by books and research.

Research into flowers, perhaps. Real flowers, not flowers that grew tentacles and tried to eat people. Or astronomy. Not astrology, but astronomy. Something completely unexciting, even by librarian standards.

But he was needed here, and he had always -- well, since becoming an adult -- accepted his fate to be a watcher, to train and educate and assist in the battle against evil. Someday he would be able to retire to that country estate, but it wouldn't be soon. After all, his fellow watchers consisted of a slayer's teenager sister, a one eyed carpenter, and Andrew.

Just as he put the cup to his lips for a second sip the door slammed open, and two bloody, battered bodies came limping in.

"Really, it's hardly surprising," Giles murmured to himself, but then he took a second look and leaped to his feet.

Buffy, whose startlingly short dress revealed masses of bruises across all four limbs, half carried Faith, whose jeans and shirt were soaked with blood. "Giles -- the infirmary is locked."

"This way." He took Faith's other arm and led them back out into the hallway, then pounded on the entrance to the dorms as they passed. Chantel, an older slayer who had been a registered nurse and now traveled with Andrew, had trained some of the others as best she could in a short time, and it looked like the skills would be needed. He punched a code into the infirmary door lock, electing not to remind Buffy that he'd given her the code when they first arrived.

"Over here." They stretched Faith onto one of the half dozen beds in the small, well equipped medical center, as other slayers started pouring in. "Rona, Vi -- get bandages and that diagnostic device."

They stripped off Faith's clothes, and discovered her only serious injury was a deep wound to the abdomen. "Robin . . ." she gasped, as Giles and Rona attached a diagnostic computer to her with bands, finger clamps and electrodes. Vi ran a scanning device over Faith's torso, making Giles imagine she was being scanned right into the computer.

While Shannon fed information into a computer keyboard, Giles looked back at Buffy, who had settled back on another bed. "And you --?"

"Surviving." He could see pain in her eyes, and anger.

"Low grade fever," Shannon announced, reading a computer screen. "The computer thinks it's septic shock."

Giles glanced at the freshly applied bandage. Yes, whatever cut into her could have nicked her intestines, which would produce a nasty infection that even slayers would have trouble fighting off. "Bloody hell. Vi --"

"Got it." Vi had already produced two hypodermic needles from another cabinet, but then she hesitated. "I've never actually --"

"I have." Taking the first needle, Giles plunged it into Faith's arm. Faith's eyelids fluttered, then her breathing steadied and she lay still while Giles administered the second medication. By the time he had finished Shannon had prepared an intravenous kit, and soon fluid was flowing into a vein in Faith's arm.

The slayers waited, glancing uneasily at each other, until Giles waved them back. "She'll rest now, while the antibiotic takes effect."

"She should be in a hospital," one of the newest slayers said, but Giles shook his head.

"It would cause too many questions, and Faith has a criminal record. With a little help, her healing powers will handle this." He checked Faith's breathing, then turned back to Buffy. "Robin --?"

"Kidnapped by demons."

A hush fell on the room. "Kidnapped? Can you --"

"Green. Big. Claws and horns. Three of them, although only two got away. Oh yeah, and pretty much indestructible."

"Then how --"

"I chopped off its head horn and shoved my dagger into its brain."

"Yes, of course. But why didn't you call as soon as it happened?"

Buffy lay back on her bed, threw an arm over her face, and closed her eyes. "Big Green Guys smashed the cell phone."

The other girls murmured, while Giles tried to picture the creature. Buffy looked on the edge of passing out, but he had to get an idea of what was going on. He turned to check Faith's vital signs and, although the computer seemed to think she was out of danger and she was resting comfortable, he realized it would be some time before she could add to the conversation. "I wonder what happened to the other two --"

The door burst open, and this time a whole gaggle of bloody people shoved through the door. "Make way, ladies!" Xander shouted, as two strangers carried a third past the slayers to still another bed. It was a boy who Giles judged to be in his mid teens, and his "Bikini Lookout Squad" t-shirt had been shredded by something that left deep gashes in his skin. He was conscious, but didn't look like he wanted to be.

"What happened?" Giles asked, examining the wound while his helpers once more set up the diagnostic equipment. They only had three sets of the computer gear, so Giles gave Xander and the two others a quick once-over to make sure they wouldn't have to break out the extra. Xander had a large purple bruise, complete with goose egg, on one side of his forehead. A man of Giles age, who wore a black sweatsuit, didn't have any apparent injuries but moved slowly, as if his back was hurting him. The girl was a mass of small cuts and bruises, and her brown hair was tangled wildly around her shoulders, but she didn't appear to be badly injured.

"Demons," Xander said. "Big. Green. Horny." Seeing the looks on some of the slayers' faces, he added hastily, "I mean, as in they had a big horn on each forehead, and some little ones on their shoulders, and I'm pretty sure on their knees. They were after Dawn."

Giles jerked around, realizing who wasn't there. "After her?" She glanced down at Buffy, and realized the Slayer was sound asleep.

"Kidnapped her." He sounded disgusted, as if blaming himself for not saving Buffy's sister.

"Why didn't you call me as soon as it happened?"

Xander threw up his hands. "After we got headed this way I remembered the cell phone, but the Green Guys smashed it."

"Is he gonna be all right?" the girl suddenly asked. Giles looked at Shannon, who turned from the computer screen with a thumbs up.

"No, I'm not going to be all right," the boy said. "Never again."

Looking down at him, the girl gave a smile that revealed a flash of braces. "Sure you are, it's just a flesh wound."

"But it's _my_ flesh."

All right. Green demons. Giles turned to Xander, who looked almost as bad as Buffy. "Who is this boy, and why did you bring him here?"

With that the girl jerked her head up, impaling Giles with a glare. "He's a Scooby now. He's here because a regular hospital would ask too many questions, and Xander said the watchers have the best medical equipment."

Hm. A slayer, obviously, who'd been taught some history on the way here. Giles turned to Xander, who grinned sheepishly. "He proved himself, Giles -- fought off vamps and helped kill one of them, then took on the demons." Xander quickly introduced the others and described their adventure, including his and Kara's decision to bring Jason with them. "We had no way to track Dawn, but I thought you . . ."

"Perhaps." He surveyed the crowded room. Those who were conscious all watched him, waiting. "Buffy killed one demon, and Kara the second. If we could track the third . . ."

"Um, sorry, Giles." Willow and Kennedy marched in the door, leading a young black girl dressed in a track suit. "The third one kind of got fried."

"Indeed. And none of you is injured?"

"My ankle's almost healed up," the girl said, sounding surprised. Another slayer, Giles concluded -- and he had a feeling they'd need all the help they could get.

It was Willow's turn to tell the story, and by now Giles was so used to the description of the demons that the strange spirit caught his full attention. He didn't even bother asking about the cell phone. "It was benevolent, then?"

"Well, it helped us," Kennedy said, but Willow nodded.

"It was good, Giles, I felt it. I don't know why, but it wanted to help us."

"Very well." Something very, very big was up, something they hadn't expected this soon after the defeat of The First. Clearly, Giles had miscalculated how quickly the forces of darkness would move in to fill the power vacuum. "Willow, I need you to try to pinpoint sources of unusual mystical activity. Those demons may be gone, but they were clearly being directed by something. When we find that something, we find Robin and Dawn. Kennedy, contact Andrew, and have him return here straight away. If we can't find our friends any other way, we'll have to fan out into a search of some sort."

Kennedy looked doubtful at that. "We don't know where to start searching. Those things covered half the country in one night."

"But in a straight line, across the midwest. I'll try to determine what they were, and how they were traveling." He looked around at all of the people, well aware that the crisis was upon them and they were already short some of their most powerful players. "The rest of you get some rest. We'll need all our strength when it's time to move."

#

Buffy was dreaming. Of that, she was quite certain. She stood on a sand dune, in the midst of a dry, vast and familiar desert, and looked at a beautiful young woman who wore a long, flowing gown and watched her with sad eyes. Tara, a young woman who'd been killed by a bullet meant for Buffy.

Hovering around Tara was her polar opposite: a prowling, wild haired woman with deep black skin, covered in animal skins and war paint. Well, others might have to assume it was a woman, but Buffy knew it was.

Buffy ignored the First Slayer for a moment, and spoke to the other apparition instead. "What are you this time? Spirit, or borrowed voice?"

"The walls between the spirit world and the earthly dimension are thinning." Tara stood erect, moving nothing but her mouth as she spoke, and that made Buffy realize the other woman was just a mouthpiece, speaking for the First Slayer. It stabbed at her heart, reminding her both of past failures and of the First Evil's way of communicating with her.

"We are being called," Tara said. Her own voice, her own face -- but not her.

"We?" She looked at the First Slayer now, who continued to prowl around the Tara figure at a half crouch. "By who? The Shadow Men? They're all gone now except for Giles, and he didn't turn out to be much of a company man."

"By evil. Our living spirit works against us. What cannot be extinguished can be relit in the human world, but our control vanishes. We do not know what we are in this world. We have no anchor."

"Who is we? Spirits?" Buffy felt like yelling in frustration. She hated these cryptic dreams -- what was so wrong with just telling people what was going on?

The First Slayer froze, staring with those wild eyes, while Tara spoke. "Spirits brought to flesh are controlled by those who summon them. Powerful magic takes powerful tools to build."

While Buffy tried to decipher that, she suddenly realized why the First Slayer had stopped in her tracks. The ancient spirit stared at something off to Buffy's left, and Buffy turned to see a fourth being had joined them. It was a disturbingly familiar little man, balding and bespectacled, dressed in a plain gray suit. Staring at the First Slayer, the man frowned and held up what appeared to be a chunk of pepper jack cheese, then turned to Buffy.

"She's not civilized. She's never even had cheese, you see."

Buffy opened her eyes and stared for a long moment at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Something felt ready to fall into place, some idea or explanation . . . if that stupid guy with the cheese hadn't interrupted, maybe she would have learned something important. Why did ridiculous, useless stuff like that insist on inserting itself into her dreams? Next thing you know, she'd be getting important information from Harry Potter in an ice cream truck.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Faith lay in the next bed, her breathing regular and her color much better. In another bed, Buffy saw an unfamiliar teenage boy, who was snoring softly. Okay. He was new.

Someone had removed Buffy's boots and covered her with one of those too-small hospital blankets. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she padded out the door and into the dimly lit hallway, seeking someone who could explain the present situation. _Let's see . . ._ The infirmary was at one end of this hallway, which intersected a second hallway that led past the dorm rooms. That, in turn, met a third hallway which accessed the computer room and library, then a fourth that led past the living and kitchen areas and right back to the infirmary. The inside walls of those four hallways formed the gym and other fitness areas. Where was Buffy most likely to find someone awake?

She got her answer just as she reached the first intersection, when a girl draped in the exact same kind of blanket turned the corner and almost ran headlong into her. "Oh."

"Sorry." Buffy's senses told her this was a slayer, even as she realized she'd never met this one. The girl looked weary and mussed up, as if she'd just awakened, and was barefoot -- in fact, Buffy realized, they must look remarkably similar at the moment.

"You must be Buffy." The girl gave a slight smile, showing just a hint of metal that startled Buffy. A slayer with braces? "I'm Kara. I was on my way to check on my friend."

"The boy in the infirmary?" Kara nodded. "Sleeping. I was on my way to check on what the heck's going on."

"Mr. Giles and my dad are in the library, doing research. That's where to get an update." Kara looked indecisive for a moment, then turned and walked beside Buffy down the corridor. "There's something big going on, but they made us go to bed; said we'd need to be rested for tomorrow."

"There's always something big going on. Let me tell you the two real secrets of being a slayer: sleep whenever you can, and learn how to be sneaky around your watcher. You learn more both ways. So, who's your father?"

"He's my watcher."

"You're going to need some serious therapy." They must have been the slayer and watcher the map showed together in Indiana, Buffy realized, which meant Dawn and Xander were back. Well, hopefully they'd be getting some sleep, too. At the door to the library Buffy paused, and whispered to Kara, "Remember, always sneak up on your watcher. Even if you don't learn anything, it's still fun to scare the crap out of them." Kara grinned, and the two stepped silently into the room.

Two men sat with their backs to the door -- would Giles never learn? -- and at first Buffy had trouble telling them apart. Both had dark hair, were of average height, and wore dark sweaters. As she watched, both took off their glasses and set them down on piles of books. Only when the one on the left spoke did she recognize Giles' very British accent.

"This is amazing. A compendium of Slayer prophesy that I had thought lost centuries ago, remarkable. Wherever did you get it?"

"From a priest in Kenya, by way of Ebay," the other man replied in a midwestern accent. "It cost me a bundle, too."

"E what?"

Buffy grinned, and moved a little closer to get a better look at a leather bound book the two had laid out between them. Latin, natch. Or Greek, or something.

"My Latin's pretty rusty," Kara's father said. "I've only gotten halfway down this page, but it clearly relates to something called The Rising of the Slayers. Slayers, plural, which means our current situation."

"And that's what convinced you to let your daughter join us?"

"The idea of her being the only slayer, facing an army of darkness alone, that would have terrified me. But as one member of a battalion, I figured she's in good company. Safe. Or at least, as safe as she could be."

Giles gave him a sidelong glance. "Relatively safe, yes. But it's still a dangerous business, which is why I suggested she be assigned a different watcher."

Beside her, Buffy felt Kara stiffen.

"We can both handle it."

Giles bent back over the text, giving Buffy the feeling he was avoiding the other man's gaze. "Richard, one reason there were always so many watchers was because . . . because the loss of one slayer was always very painful. We'd train and direct, advise and supervise -- and become family. Then she'd be gone. Sometimes in a few years, all too often in a few months."

Richard stared at him. "You're telling me watchers are only assigned to one slayer, their entire career? Six months, a year, then retirement?"

"No, not always. I only had one slayer -- of course, Buffy was a special case -- but some worked with two or three over the course of their careers. in most cases Watchers trained the same potential until she becomes a slayer, until she's clearly too old to be called, or until . . ."

"Most potentials never became slayers?"

"No, but they often still died violently. Then, for Watchers, there's that decompression time, after our charge . . . passes. They must write reports, be interviewed, find out what they've done right or wrong. More importantly, they must heal." Giles glanced at Richard again. "Again, it's always extremely painful, even when it's a girl we've known a short time. We must send them into danger, Richard, and sometimes they don't come back. Can you handle that?'

"My daughter is my life. No one knows her better than me, and no one knows me better than her. If anyone can keep her alive, I can, and if she dies in this business it won't matter to me who sent her into battle -- she'd still be gone." The two men turned back to the book, studying it silently.

Kara's sniff was barely audible. Buffy reached out and took the younger girl's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Say. Oh, my . . ." Giles suddenly straightened up. "This is . . ."

Richard looked at him. "You finished the translation."

"Indeed." But Giles continued to stare at the page. "This does not refer to one rising of slayers -- it refers to two risings, two groups of slayers." Now he did look up, and in his profile Buffy saw a deeply troubled expression. "That's what the vampire Kara killed was referring to. Two armies of slayers, at war with each other."

Buffy and Kara exchanged a look. Bad, said Kara's expression, very bad. Buffy decided it was time to announce their presence, but before she could speak Giles' next words stopped her like a blow to the heart:

"But what does this have to do with the disappearance of Robin and Dawn?"


	9. Just Another Apocalypse

CHAPTER NINE

Dawn opened her eyes, surprised to find herself not dead.

It took her a moment to realize she wasn't alone, and she got her second surprise when she sat up and found Robin Woods -- who she couldn't help thinking of as Principle Woods, even though his school has been swallowed up by the Hellmouth -- lying on a cot beside hers. They were on a raised platform that ran the edge of an area the size of a classroom, walled in by concrete. Narrow slits, barely big enough to be called windows, were too high up to tell if it was day or night, but the place was brightly lit by glowing strips on the ceiling.

"Okay . . ." She stood up and looked around, noticing a table and two chairs across the room, a locked steamer trunk near that, and a thick looking wooden door that she knew without trying couldn't be opened. Most important of all, she saw and smelled a hot breakfast waiting on two plates at the table.

Turning, Dawn nudged Robin. "Principle -- um, Robin?"

Opening his eyes, Robin moaned. His hands automatically went to his abdomen, and then his eyes opened wider. He set up, unbuttoned his shirt, and ran his hands in wonder over unscarred skin. "I'm healed."

"Hallelujah. Let's eat." She pulled him to his feat and pointed toward the food, which he approached with suspicion.

"How do we know this isn't poisoned?" he demanded. Dawn raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, drugged?"

"Good point." Perching on a chair, Dawn reached for a fork and, before Robin could protest, took a bite. "Doesn't taste like LSD." She began eating, having decided that they had to keep their strength up until they figured out what was going on, while Robin sat across from her and watched.

"How are the biscuits and gravy?"

Mouth full, Dawn gave him a thumbs up sign.

"The eggs? Not too overeasy?"

Swallowing, she waved her fork at the other plate. "Look, someone healed you, so why hurt you now? I'm not saying they're going to come in and sing to us, but I don't think they're going to hurt us yet, either."

Giving in, Robin started eating, while Dawn wondered if she was right. One thing she did know was that she wasn't going to be the victim this time. By eating, she not only kept her strength up, but gained a nice, pointy fork to work with.

But as soon as she'd shoveled the last mouth full in, the fork disappeared. The plate went too, and the orange juice glass vanished with the last sip. While she sat there with her arms crossed, pouting, the same thing happened to Robin.

"You think the food's still there?" he asked, patting his stomach.

"Whatever." She got up and began stalking around the room, looking for weapons and weaknesses. After a moment Robin joined her, and they traded stories about how they had ended up there. By the time they circled the small room, the table and chairs were also gone.

Increasingly irritated, Dawn marched over to the cots and discovered they were bolted to both the floor and the wall. She stood on one, reaching up on tiptoe to find steel bars had been cemented into the windows -- which were too narrow to allow someone through, anyway. Pacing by an amused Robin, she gave the door a good swift kick that almost broke her foot. "This sucks. On ice."

Her cellmate nodded. "Someone's being very careful with us: Apparently, we've developed a reputation. All the weapons I had hidden on me are gone."

"I could snap them with my bra." Dawn stood in the middle of the room, considering. Above all, she didn't want to be rescued by anyone, especially Buffy. She was _so_ tired of being rescued. But self rescue seemed an increasingly dim prospect. "If only we knew who brought us here, and why."

Robin tilted his head for a moment, thought about it, and -- sang.

Given all the things I like

knives and stakes, a nice long pike

I think that I could get us out of here.

The situation's looking bad

they took from me the things I had

Escape is just a fantasy I fear.

It seemed perfectly natural for Dawn to join in the chorus.

It's just another apocalypse

What else could it be?

Acid dripping from demon lips

Or poison in his pee

It's just another apocalypse to me.

Dawn's turn:

Swords are more of the same old story

Please give me a gun this time

Can't we update our inventory

The Watcher's council has the dime

I want to kick some demon ass this time.

They did a little dance number and added,

It's just another apocalypse

Been there, done that

Hellfire from some goddess lips

We'll pull a rescue from our hat

It's just another apocalypse, you see.

Glory, Master, Mayor or Spike

It's getting old, you must agree.

Sword or mace, stake or pike

Give us a shot, and we'll be free

It's just another apocalypse, to me.

As the music faded Robin froze, arms thrown out, fingers spread. Only his eyes moved, to see Dawn in a similar position. "Did we just sing?"

"And danced," Dawn told him. They dropped their arms, and Dawn saw he looked as embarrassed as she felt. But she also felt something else. She moved to the middle of the room to spin around, staring into the corners for some sign of their enemy -- and she now knew exactly who that was.

"Hey, snappy dressing sing and dance guy! Show your orchestrated ass _right now!_"

"Sweet."

Dawn thought at first Robin had spoken, but she spun around to see an all too familiar demon standing in the doorway -- even though the door had not been opened. "Sweet," he repeated, before tap dancing his way down to the lower level. That blood red face split into a wide smile, and as he spun, his no doubt custom made blue three piece suit swirled around him in an oh-so-cool way.

I've got a hundred of 'em

but people never say 'em

I just don't say my name

while people play my game

But now the rules have changed, my friend.

Dawn held a finger up and advanced on the demon, while Robin looked on with a shell shocked expression. "Don't you dare make me --"

Then she danced backward, in perfect unison with Sweet's steps.

You and your friends the slayers

think that you're such the players

But now you'll find you're wrong

You'll have to sing his song

It may bring you some pain, my friend.

"I am _not_ your friend!"

Sweet just grinned as if she'd made the funniest joke imaginable.

So you can call me Sweet, and tell the friends you meet

that I'm the coolest one, but when the day is done

There's someone else to take attention,

a new Big Cheese that I should mention

That makes me now the second fiddle

So see if you can get this riddle

'Cause if you don't you're in the middle --

"Hey -- why aren't you making me sing with you?" She hated to sing. Dawn stared at her old nemesis, who had once made her and her friends -- and all the town of Sunnydale -- break into song and dance routines. He seemed marginally less threatening, which was a big deal considering his tendency to make people burst into flames.

To her surprise, Sweet stopped singing, although he continued to grin. "That's what I'm saying, little one: Your fate is out of my hands."

"What riddle?" Robin suddenly asked.

Sweet turned to him. "Ah, the baritone. The riddle is: How can you reverse the dream of shaken milk who's bringing memories to a real life nightmare?"

"That riddle sucks," Dawn told him, mostly because she was mad.

"True, and it will likely be of no help. But hey, I'm not the Riddler. And you can't solve it yourself, princess -- that would make it too easy."

I'll see you at the gate,

the place you're gonna hate

Now we can't go without you

But with you there we can do

It may bring you your end -- my friend.

And with a flash, he was gone.

There was a moment's silence, while Dawn waited to see if they were going to break into song again. Then she turned slowly to Robin, who appeared to be deep in thought. "I guess I should explain that."

"He's a demon who once caused Sunnydale to break into song and dance?"

"I guess I don't have to."

Robin shrugged. "I figured out the backstory, I think. But he made it pretty clear he's not the one in charge, this time."

"No." But Dawn wondered why Sweet had told them that. He'd said once that he didn't make the rules -- was this some other rule he had to follow? After all, he'd volunteered once before to tell Dawn what he was up to.

"So if he didn't put us here, why did he come?" Robin asked. "Was it just to torture us? If it was, why didn't he have me breakdancing and you doing a Rogers and Hammerstein number?"

Turning, Dawn perched on a cot and, after a moment, Robin sat on the other one. "We're going to some gate," Dawn said, as she reconstructed their encounter. "And we won't like it very much."

"But they can't go to the gate without us. And . . . it may bring our end."

"They can't go to the gate without us, or . . ." Dawn shivered, as a cold shock jolted through her body. "Or, they can't _open_ the gate without us."

Robin sent her a sharp look. "They could use us to open a gateway?"

"Our blood, would be my guess." Dawn drew her knees up and huddled on the bed, feeling a fear she'd thought would never come again. "I've been a key before."

#

Ozma turned from the mirror and regarded the room's other occupant, who stood with chunks of parmesan smashed in his fists, face scarlet, jaws clenched. "He told me he'd been called by the amulet," Cheeseman said. "Why would he lie to me?"

Ozma's amusement at the situation was rapidly fading. Cheeseman's appearance was deceptive, and she'd assumed he had no chance of succeeding with this audacious plan. But, with Sweet serving as something of the voice of reason, they were coming closer than she could have imagined. "I have a theory," she told him. "Sweet surely knows that you wish the prisoners kept secure, and that you wouldn't be happy if he walked into your prison. But one of them is the only person he ever picked to be his queen who survived. Add that to the fact that he's been unable to indulge himself in his usual musical extravaganza, and he probably wasn't able to control his impulses."

"Hm." Looking a little less angry, Cheeseman leaned toward her and whispered, even though they were alone in Ozma's throne room. "Do you don't think he sent those vampires?"

"It seems unlikely. To my knowledge, Sweet has never replaced his minions the Slayer killed."

But Cheeseman seemed unconvinced. "What about that riddle? What was that about?"

"It doesn't sound to me like a real riddle at all. It could be Sweet is simply trying to occupy their minds, so they aren't looking for a means to escape."

"True," the mild looking demon rubbed his chin, leaving crumbled bits of cheese behind. "After all, what could 'shaken milk' possibly refer to?"

"Good point," Ozma said. Then she turned away to hide her smile.

#

"Andrew, it's Giles for you." One of the slayers handed the cell phone forward to the front passenger seat of the panel truck, where Andrew sat half asleep. After insisting on driving most of the way to L.A., he had gladly consented to help with that chore on the way back.

An enraged roar came from the girl strapped down behind him, causing all the slayers to jump. They looked with concern at the nurse, Chantel, but she glanced at her watch and shook her head. "Another half hour before it's safe to give Dana the next dose. We'll just have to hope the restraints hold." She continued cooing gentle words at their cargo, who stared at her with wild eyes and seemed barely to understand.

An insane slayer. Everyone seemed to think Dana could be cured, but . . . Andrew took the phone and shook his head, wondering if the new Watcher's headquarters had been supplied with a padded room, tucked away somewhere. Probably -- it had everything else. "Mr. Giles?"

"Andrew, how goes it?"

"No change since we left California, sir." Andrew's chest tightened as he again fought the temptation to tell Giles that Spike had returned from the dead -- again. He felt terrible, lying to one side about Spike and the other about Buffy's location, but he'd concluded lying was one of the uncomfortable duties of a Watcher.

And he'd decided that was what he wanted to be -- that was why he had lived through the destruction of Sunnydale. It was time to put away childish things and take responsibility. His Star Wars action figure collection had gone down with the rest of town, anyway.

"Andrew, this is very important. You must not let on to the slayers with you what we're speaking about."

Another lie. Great. "Sure, Mr. Giles, we should be back by early tomorrow morning."

"Have you noticed any difference in them since you left? Any sign that they might be . . . changing?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"We've uncovered a prophecy that one group of slayers may do battle against another group. At the moment, there are only two organized companies of slayers, and you're alone with one of them."

Andrew gulped and glanced around. The driver, who had just graduated high school that spring and left a college scholarship behind, kept her attention on the road. Most of the rest were trying to sleep despite the cramped conditions, while one or two noticed him looking and replied with smiles. His willingness to go into danger alone in Los Angeles had apparently earned him a seal of approval. "No, sir, nothing like that here. Our -- target -- isn't happy about being cooped up in the van for this long, but otherwise we're all fine."

"Yes, well . . . keep your eyes open. And be ready to go into battle as soon as you join us. Something very, very bad is going to happen soon, and if the prophecy proves correct it may be a serious situation, indeed."

Andrew shut off the phone and squirmed in his seat, suddenly wide awake. There were many slayers still out there around the world, faced with brand new powers and no guidance. What if someone else got to them first? Turned them evil? What if someone attacked the new Watcher's council, just as the First Evil had the old one, and took control of those slayers?

He turned to catch the attention of the woman behind the wheel. "Drive faster."


	10. Plans into Action

CHAPTER TEN

"I can do a locator spell," Willow said firmly, "or I can heal the injured. I can't do both."

Xander Harris threw his arms up. "Come on, Will -- you're uber-witch."

In one corner of the living area Kara sat quietly, fascinated by the interaction between the original Scoobies. In the hours they had spent traveling to Chicago, Xander had told her a great deal about the early history of Buffy's career, and in that time this group had achieved something of a legendary status. In fact, all the new slayers in the building had gathered, hovering in hushed groups around the edges of the room, to watch their mentors at work.

Or, specifically, in argument. Xander and Willow sat on a couch right at the center of the huge room, while Buffy paced back and forth before them and Kennedy stood behind, massaging Willow's shoulders. Giles had again disappeared into the library with her father, trying to finish deciphering the book Richard had brought with him. The two -- unsurprisingly -- had quickly bonded, especially since being surrounded by teenage girls seemed to have them wigged out.

Xander claimed he and Willow were now, for all practical purposes, watchers themselves. But whenever anyone mentioned going to the library he got a look of horror on his face -- Kara thought they were taking on the title mostly because they weren't certain what else to do with their lives.

Kara had felt that way herself -- was it only days ago?

"I'm still recovering from the big magic I worked in Sunnydale," Willow protested. "After all the other things I tried in the gym, setting that demon on fire was really hard. A healing spell is much worse, and a locator spell takes a lot of power. I don't want to go too far over the line . . . you know what could happen."

"Yeah, I know." Xander touched Willow's arm.

"Then it's the locator spell," Buffy announced, coming to a stop before them. She had changed into black jeans and a matching tank top, and appeared ready to take someone, or something, on.

Xander shook his head. "Buffy, we need everyone at full strength, especially Faith. I'm not sure she could even travel right now, let alone walk."

"What's the point of everyone being ready to fight if we don't know where to go? We need to find Dawn, first."

"And Robin," Kennedy reminded her with a hard look.

"And Robin." Buffy looked around, seeming to notice the others for the first time. "We have a whole room full of slayers -- we're ready for whatever's out there."

"What if it's another room full of slayers?" Xander challenged. "Buffy, while those things were demolishing everyone else, they went out of their way not to hurt Dawn. She's okay."

"For how long? They kidnapped her for a reason, and we don't know what that reason is."

"I think we do." Giles entered with Richard, whose gaze darted around until he found Kara. He gave her a little smile, but followed Giles to the center of the room.

"What have you got?" Buffy demanded.

"Yeah," Xander added, "Do we get to party with the big boys now?" To the gathered slayers he explained, "Giles is our funky lovin' party weasel."

A few of the slayers tittered, and Richard looked shocked. Giles simply shot Xander an exasperated glare, but then relented. "Xander, your attempt to lighten the mood is . . . appreciated."

"We're short on time," Richard reminded them.

"Right." Giles gestured to the book he held, and opened it to a bookmarked page. "The book Richard brought us specifies a rising of slayers, an event that takes a great deal of dark mystical power, and is most likely to be successful at midnight during a full moon."

"Which is tomorrow night," Richard added.

"There sure are a lot of full moons at bad times," Xander said.

Willow nodded. "Yeah, there seems to be one every month."

Giles cleared his throat and looked down at the book. "The volume is, unfortunately, not specific about the procedure used. Only that it must be done at a mystical gathering point, possibly a consecrated cemetery --"

"But the slayers have already risen." Willow waved an arm to encompass the room. "Look at them, all risey."

"These slayers will arise under the control of an evil power," Richard told her.

Giles nodded. "Yes, and war against the good slayers, who I would assume to be us."

But Willow wasn't done. "Okay, then, just look at that computer screen and find out where another group of slayers is gathering."

Richard shook his head. "We just looked. They aren't. In fact, there's no evidence of unusual movement among the slayers, except for the group Andrew is escorting back to Chicago."

"Maybe Andrew turned them evil," Kennedy suggested.

Xander snorted. "More likely he turned 'em all gay."

"Hey!" Willow and Kennedy protested together.

"If we could get back to the subject." Richard gave the Scoobies the same look he used to shoot Kara when she made too much noise. "This is an extremely serious situation."

"Yes," Giles agreed. "We're facing an unknown enemy, who will emerge from an unknown location --"

"Apparently in the company of an army of evil slayers --"

"And although we aren't certain of the specifics of the ceremony, the prophecy is very clear that slayers will war with each other ."

"Our only hope of intercepting our adversary before this happens is to find Dawn and Robin."

"Which makes a locator spell our only viable alternative."

When Giles and Richard stopped there was a silence, as the Scoobies stared at them with somewhat shell shocked expressions. Finally Buffy gasped, "My God, dueling watchers."

"It's like listening to Giles in stereo." Willow sounded awed.

"Two watchers, no waiting on research," Xander added.

Kara shook her head. She had been thinking how horrible it was too see her father as twins, but now she'd come up with another thought, and slowly raised her hand until Giles spotted it and raised an eyebrow at her. "Is it really a good idea to bring a group of slayers to a mystical gathering point, just when someone is trying to turn a group of slayers evil? Wouldn't it be better if we all went as far away as we could?"

The Scoobies stared at her in surprise, while she felt a blush rise over her face. "That's a really good point," Xander said.

"Yes, it . . ." Frowning, Giles looked down to study the book.

"We don't run from a challenge." Buffy looked around at the others. "We won our last battle by taking the fight to them, and we'll win this one the same way."

"So why do they want Dawn and Robin?" Kennedy asked.

"That's the key." Giles sent a look at Buffy. "Maybe literally."

Again a silence, punctuated by Xander's quiet, "Oh boy."

"How?" Buffy asked. She stood with fists clenched, her body taut.

"What do Dawn and Robin have in common?" Giles asked quietly.

Buffy's eyes widened. "Slayer blood." Pale and barely controlled, she turned to Willow. "Do the locator spell. Hurry."

They rushed out together, followed by Giles, Xander and Kennedy. The other slayers, gossiping quietly among themselves, slowly began to disperse, and Kara noticed her father coming toward her. He had a strange look on his face -- part sad, part determined, all proud. "How are you doing?"

"Fine." She shifted from one foot to another.

"No. This isn't an after school question. I mean, how are you really doing?"

Kara sighed. "I'm a little scared. But dad, this is where we're meant to be."

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded with a sad smile. "I know. No matter what happens, all we can do is give it our best." He removed his glasses and rubbed red, puffy eyes. "You know, ever since your mother was killed I tried to teach you to be strong -- not to be a victim. I wonder now if all our lives weren't in preparation for this moment."

"I'll be strong. And if you're going to send me into battle, you have to be strong, too."

"Yes." He reached out to her, but she pulled back.

"Dad! Please, not in front of the slayers."

"Of course. Go check on Jason, I'll see you soon." He turned to leave, and she hoped he hadn't noticed her trying to hold back tears.

Before she could head toward the infirmary she saw someone else headed toward her. A young woman with long black hair and asian features, she was dressed in a set of yellow sweats -- sweats seemed to be the dress of choice inside the building, she had noticed, except for those few who went for more exotic clothing. "I am Chao-Ahn."

"Kara." She wondered if she should bow, but the other girl solved the dilemma by reaching out to shake her hand.

"I have parents, in China. I miss them. You're -- very lucky."

"I know."

"My parents could never be watchers, but they had to send me away. When I look at you and your father, I think my parents were very brave, too."

"So were you," Kara said.

Chao-Ahn smiled. "Come. I show you everything else here."

Kara followed, realizing she hadn't seen much beyond the infirmary and living quarters. She also realized she'd just made a new friend, and by the time this was over she'd probably need all the friends she could get.

#

Dawn spent what seemed like hours hovering by the door, waiting to make her move.

Not that it would be much of a move, considering she had no weapon to speak of. She'd even, briefly, taken seriously the idea of using her bra as some sort of weapon, but the only thing she could think of was a slingshot, and there was nothing to shoot. Robin's shoes, maybe, but they'd be too big --

Never mind.

So she spent all her time near the door except once, when she had to go to the bathroom and a small lavatory magically appeared in one corner of the room, without her even mentioning the need. That wigged her out majorly, as well as warning her any kind of planned defense was probably pointless -- a realization proven true when, instead of someone coming in, their prison simply melted away from them and they found themselves in a pitch dark, featureless chamber barely large enough to stand upright in.

"We're moving," she heard Robin say in the darkness.

"Are you sure?"

"No."

"He's right," another voice suddenly told them.

Dawn started and swung around, only to hear an offended "Hey!" when she punched Robin's shoulder.

"Who are you?" Dawn shouted. It hadn't sounded like Sweet, and this wasn't his style, anyway.

"I have many names."

Well, that sounded like something Sweet would say, but the voice wasn't his. "What do you want?"

"To come out of that dark place between sleeping and wake, to stop haunting dreams and start haunting reality. To be a nightmare that walks the Earth."

"We're not helping you," Robin said.

"You never had a choice."

"Buffy will stop you," Dawn said, as she strained to see any detail in their tiny prison. "She'll be there with the slayers. You can get all the vamps and demons you want to guard your little ceremony, and she'll walk right through them."

"Yes, such a possibility had been troublesome before, but I ironed out that little kink in the plan. You see, I can't be sure of success until the slayers are dead -- all of them. So, I simply intend to invite them. No guards, no barriers. They can watch their doom approach, for all I care."

"We won't cooperate," Robin said firmly.

"Ah, but I don't need cooperation, dear sir. I only need blood. Now, you need to keep your strength up -- care for some cheese?"

#

It took an hour, although it seemed an eternity to Buffy.

With a gasp, Willow straightened as if shocked. From her position, sitting cross legged on the floor of the computer room, she pointed past the others at the electronic map on the wall. "There."

The Scoobies turned to see two shimmering, multicolored lights glowing on the map, centered on the edge of Lake Superior in Northern Michigan. "Within driving distance," Giles said with satisfaction.

"Can we get there before the bad guys do?" Xander asked.

Willow shook her head. "You don't understand. The locator spell didn't track them to where they were -- they just suddenly appeared , and their mystical energy signature is so strong I could sense it. The bad guys are already there, along with Dawn and Robin."

"That's good enough for me." Standing, Buffy helped Willow to her feet. "Xander, issue weapons, and let's get some vans ready."

Xander nodded. "There's some heavy artillery in the armory, but --"

"Bring it. Giles, tell Andrew to head straight there, we'll need him. Let's mount up."

#

Sweet tapped danced into the throne room, and was surprised to see no one in front of the magic mirror. Ozma sat in her silver throne, hands resting in her lap and eyes closed, either asleep or meditating, and Cheeseman was nowhere to be seen. When he saw that, Sweet came to a stop, not wanting to disturb his host -- besides, there was no audience. But it was too late -- Ozma's eyes fluttered open and she smiled sweetly at him.

"Did you have a nice visit?"

Glancing at the magic mirror, Sweet quickly grasped that he'd been caught. "Yes, indeed. My ex-fiance is looking well, don't you think?"

"A beautiful girl, indeed."

"And where is my colleague today?"

"He's completed his research and begun the task of transporting the needed materials to a place on Earth." She picked her her scepter, and at a wave made a globe appear before her. Sweet approached, as she pointed out a spot in North America. "I've never been there, but it looks lovely in the mirror."

Sweet nodded, but turned his attention on her. "But you've been on Earth."

Ozma just looked at him, still smiling.

"You see, I think I've got you figured out. The demon that seemed so scared of you was a nice red herring, but I checked and found its body is gone -- as if it never existed. As if it was an illusion. I won't bore you with the same old song and dance, but I've noticed you don't actually _do_ much."

"Oh?"

"No. You use this place as a conduit, a location where demons can contact each other and higher powers, and you manage a few tricks with your pretty little stick. But I haven't seen you do much of anything else -- not even leave your chambers."

Ozma glanced at her scepter and, smile spreading, laid it down beside her. That told Sweet all he needed to know about her intentions. "You're not a demon at all, are you? And I suspect you're not a fairy princess."

"We all have our secrets, our hidden agendas." She winked at him. "Don't we?"

Before he could reply, Ozma suddenly held a hand up. "Our master of dairy products has reached the earthly plane, with his prisoners and the mystical cargo. This day will see the final battle."

Sweet felt a touch -- just a whiff -- of concern about what the outcome would be. "And which side are you rooting for?"

Ozma, again, just smiled.


	11. Cheeseman, Sweet & Apparitions

CHAPTER ELEVEN

From her seat in the last vehicle in line, Kara thought it looked like some kind of outing, a girl's group and their camp counselors. Two vans, an SUV, a couple of sleek sedans and a somewhat battered red Mustang pulled up to an empty campsite just off a scenic route -- scenic apparently meant "narrow and winding" -- and disgorged two dozen of the most cranky people Kara had ever seen. Of course, as she had already learned, slayers weren't renown for their ability to sit still for hours at a time.

Giles, Xander, Willow, Richard and some twenty slayers stretched their legs, massaged kinks out of their backs, tossed bags of fast food wrappers into trash cans, and lined up at the scenic -- in this case, that meant smelly -- outdoor bathrooms. No, it didn't seem like much of an army at all, even though Buffy and Giles immediately set out to scout the area.

Turning, Kara reached into her van to help Jason out. "Thanks -- ow." He looked almost normal, bandages hidden beneath a borrowed t-shirt that, to his considerable embarrassment, sported a picture of Daphne from the "Scooby Doo" cartoon and the words "Girl Power" in pink. He looked a great deal more pale than when they had left Chicago, but at least his wounds had not started bleeding again.

Kara glanced over at the others. Chao-Ahn and Trina, who had ridden just in front of Kara and her smuggled passengers, were staring at them with raised eyebrows, but otherwise no one had yet noticed. "How're you feeling?"

"Ready to fight," Jason claimed, leaning against the side of the van.

"Liar."

From within, another voice called weakly, "Hey, how about a hand here?"

With a sigh, Kara reached in again, and came out with Faith. While the other slayers had quickly dressed that morning in loose clothing suitable for fighting -- they tended to favor cargo pants or shorts and baby t's or some similar sleeveless outfit, Kara noticed -- Faith was dressed to kill in a different way, with black leather pants and a wrap around, long sleeve silk shirt. Kara hadn't seen fit to mention it, simply because she hadn't expected Faith to survive the trip.

"Thanks, K." Faith looked around. "Can't say I'm much into nature. Where does a girl go to party around here?"

Jason glanced at her. "I think maybe the bears have a love shack just down the nearest dirt road."

"Are you still mad that I didn't hold hands with you?"

"I didn't ask to hold hands, I just asked if we were close yet."

"Well, you should have known the answer to either question would be a firm no. We hadn't even rounded Lake Michigan." Moving slowly, Faith started heading toward the line at the bathrooms.

"I flunked geography!" Jason called after her.

Faith shot back, "I never took it, but that big pit with all the water in it was a dead giveaway."

With a sigh, Kara also started toward the bathroom, and Jason followed close behind. He and Faith, who'd shared the rear seat with Kara, had traded barbs almost from the moment they awoke beside each other in the infirmary. Even at low volume, there was no way the other slayers in the van couldn't have known they had unauthorized passengers, but no mention had been made of it.

Kara assumed they were both bad moody because of the pain, but if it was some kind of mutual attraction thing she was going to have a serious talk with him about the older woman syndrome.

Just as she began to fight a surge of jealousy, Kara had to shift gears when she saw her father standing there, giving them the evil eye. "What are you two doing here?" he demanded.

"Hey, it's the proto-watcher." Faith started to move past him, but he stepped to one side to block her. "Look, big daddy, this is where the action will be."

"You were told in no uncertain terms to stay in Chicago. You're both too badly injured to help us now."

Drawing herself up, Faith glared at the older man. "Look, maybe nobody thought to tell you, but I'm not one of your slayers in waiting. I want to come, I come. No fancy pants Brit watcher is going to tell me what to do, and no po-dunk midwestern farmerboy watcher is going to stop me."

Desperate to halt a confrontation, Kara tried to step between them, but her father stopped her with his patented glare. "I've already figured out your part in this, Kara. Otherwise Jason wouldn't be over by those bushes puking his supper out."

Turning, Kara saw Jason was doing just that. "I was just trying --"

"It doesn't matter what your intentions were, it was the wrong thing to do. Jason and Faith are not going to get involved in this, and now you'll have to stay behind to guard them."

Face pinched, Faith took a step forward and clenched her fists. "I don't need anybody to --"

Richard's hand flicked out, tapping Faith's abdomen. With a groan she doubled over, looking as bad as Jason, while Richard stood back and regarded Kara. "Any questions?"

She swallowed the urge to say something, especially when she noticed they were attracting attention. Everyone, even those who had left to scout the area, had returned in time to see this last action, and Kara was especially ashamed to see Buffy push her way past the bathroom line. "What's going on -- Faith?"

Faith struggled to her knees. "Old man, when I get up, I'm gonna --"

"You'll do absolutely nothing." Now Giles came forward, quickly taking the situation in. "All he did was prove exactly what we were saying this morning, when you first demanded to come along. Buffy?"

Buffy nodded. "We don't have time for this. Kara, you and Trina are the newest slayers. You'll stay here with Faith and Jason, to guard our transportation in case we have to make a quick retreat." When the young gymnast started to protest, Buffy held a hand up. "I'm sorry, Trina -- only one of you is being punished, but it might take both of you to hold Faith down."

Looking devastated, Trina clamped her mouth shot. But for Kara the worst face to see was her father's, which held disappointment in her actions -- but also relief. She turned away from them all to assist Faith, but the older watcher waved her off, climbed unsteadily to her feet, and bypassed the line of women by stumbling into the empty men's restroom.

Kara turned to help Jason, who actually looked a little better, but was still weaving a bit. "What just happened?" he murmured, as she led him toward where the group's leaders were gathering to confer.

"You threw up." She couldn't believe that, after all this, she was being held out of the fight.

"I mean, other than that."

"I got us all in trouble."

With a slight smile, Jason gave her a hug that made Kara feel almost as good as being chewed out had made her feel bad. "Well, that's what you do best."

Most of the slayers had stayed in the bathroom line, a testament to how long on distance and short on pit stops the drive had been. But the new watchers gathered with Buffy around a picnic table, where Giles laid out a map of the area. As she and Jason sank onto seats at another table, Kara took a good look around.

She couldn't see Lake Superior, but she could smell it. Slayer power, or was it just on the other side of the trees that surrounded this small campground? It was much cooler than she was used to for midsummer, and the sky was a deep purple. Already the forest was only a murky darkness, although Kara could tell the trees were big and tall, their intertwined branches keeping undergrowth from growing between them.

Xander held up a battery powered lantern, making shadows sway wildly when he swatted at a mosquito. "Looks like we're a mile from the lake, and a couple of miles from the site. According to this, there are trails the whole way, so it'll be an easy hike."

"Speak for yourself," Willow told him.

"But why here?" Buffy looked around. "I mean, other than the undeniable spookiness? I feel like The Big Bad Wolf could come out of these woods at any moment."

"Well, there is a full moon," Xander told her.

"There was an ancient Indian settlement and burial site there," Richard said. "that's why this campsite and the trails were built, but a few years ago the Native Americans had it closed down and did a ceremony to consecrate the area."

"Ah." Giles nodded. "Which volume did you get that from?"

"Michigan tourism guide." Giles stared at him, as if wondering if he was being kidded. "Page fifty-four."

"Gotta love that man." Xander sounded impressed.

There was a lull, as each person around the map stared at it silently. Kara watched the other slayers, one by one, drift back to the vehicles long enough to choose weapons, then gather in a circle around their mentors. Faith was gone so long that Kara almost decided to search for her before the men's room door suddenly opened and she shuffled out, to sit beside Jason with a murderous expression. Trina, accepting her fate, joined them at the second table.

"Why isn't anyone talking?" Trina whispered.

"They can't figure out how to get there without walking into a trap." Faith glanced at her watch. "If they don't hurry, they might be able to use us after all -- as bait."

"Peachy," Jason said.

Moments later Kara noticed a stirring among the slayers. Each looked around, as if sensing something different, but Kara couldn't figure out what until she noticed Xander's lantern no longer seemed as bright as a moment before. Was the moon coming up? No, it was already there, splattering light through the trees. She twisted around, and realized a mist had sprung up from nowhere to drift through the trees at ground level. Above it, floating about ten feet in the air, a long haired woman encased in bright white light looked toward them.

"Slayers!" Giles shouted, and the girls around him began arranging themselves into defensive positions. All but Kennedy, who studied the apparition carefully before turning to her lover.

But Willow had already reached out to touch Giles' arm, although she kept her eyes on the figure. "Giles, that's the apparition that helped is in Cleveland."

"What? Are you sure? Is it here to help us?"

"She can't help," Willow explained. "She couldn't actually do anything physical before. I think she wants to guide us."

"Guide us?" Richard looked at her, his frown thrown into sharp relief by the being's flickering light. "Throwing off light like that will lead every evil thing in two counties straight here."

Immediately the light faded, until the floating woman was just barely visible.

"I stand corrected."

"Clearly it can hear us." Giles gave Willow a hard look. "But that doesn't prove it wants to help us. Willow, what can you tell me?"

"I --" She stared up at it, a wondrous expression making her face seem to glow. "She's good, really. I can sense it."

"Sense it?" Xander looked around helplessly. "Will, that's quite a leap of faith, don't you think?" He turned to Buffy for support.

But Buffy also stared at the glowing woman, and even though it was impossible to see its face, the Slayer had a look of recognition. "We can trust her. Everyone, I'm taking the point, spread out in the patrol pattern Xander taught you. Faith, you're in charge here -- um, I mean you're in charge of everything except coming after us. If things get bad, Kara makes the decision on that. But make sure we're ready for a quick getaway, and use the radio if you see something coming in behind us."

Faith stood up to protest, but that movement cause her to grimace in pain. "Whatever . . ." She sank back down. "What about the big artillery?"

Buffy shook her head. "Leave it in the SUV. With none of us properly trained, and no idea what we're facing, it might do more harm than good."

"Okay, B. We've got your back. Bring us a big Robin, and a bright Dawn."

"Will do." Buffy moved off into the woods, followed by the rest of the slayers. Xander went in beside Willow, with Giles and Richard taking up the rear. Just before he stepped into the darkness Richard glanced back at his daughter.

"Have your weapons ready. And -- and the first aid kit."

"Nice pep talk, dad."

"Don't worry, everything will work out." He disappeared into the night.

Left behind, Jason and three slayers listened until they could hear no more movement, and then it got way too quiet. "You know," Faith suddenly said, "I'll bet that SUV Giles drove would go over one of those trails."

Unbelievable. Kara looked at Faith, trying to figure out if she could possibly be serious. "Aren't we in enough trouble already?"

"Honey, you're a slayer -- just because your daddy says to stay home on a Saturday night doesn't mean you shouldn't sneak out the window and party down."

"In this case, my dad is _at_ the party." Kara looked at Jason. Then, simultaneously, they and Trina crossed their arms and assumed matching stubborn expressions, which made Faith sigh.

"Waiting sucks."

#

Buffy was certain she knew what the apparition was, but she wasn't prepared to admit it to anyone, not even herself. It was just too incredible, too wonderful to believe, and she couldn't bear the possibility of saying it out loud and being wrong. Besides, there were other concerns at the moment.

Glowing so faintly Buffy could barely make it out, her guide floated steadily through the trees. There was little underbrush, the trunks were set far apart, and the full moon was filtering through the leaves enough to make it easy going for slayer vision -- although she could hear Xander and Willow stumbling every now and then. There was no point trying to go quietly, because a thick blanket of leaves rustled with every step, so Buffy hurried through the woods and hoped the fact that they were not following a marked trail would fool their opponents.

Whoever their opponents were. Even with a disturbingly twinlike new watcher helping, Giles could come up with little to tell them who was doing this, or why. How could they be fighting an army of slayers tonight, when there was no other army of slayers? Andrew's group was out there somewhere, but they were on the good guys' side -- weren't they? And was it just another take over the world thing, or universal destruction, or more nerd geniuses, or what?

She heard another muffled curse as Xander tripped over a fallen branch, and smiled to herself. She had a couple score slayers behind her -- or was it a few score? What the heck was a score, anyway? Well, she had a lot. And a witch, and a couple of watchers who seemed to know their way around a fight, and a really motivated one eyed carpenter. _What can't we do, if we're together?_

That last thought gave her a disquieting sense of deja vus, as if she'd said the exact same thing before, but the thought left her at the same time their guide suddenly vanished. She held her sword at ready, afraid they'd been led into a trap after all, but as her eyes adjusted she realized another light was visible ahead, another strange, white glow. She advanced fifty more feet before she realized it was the moon, reflecting over a vast expanse of water.

She held up a hand, stopping the rest of the group as she moved to the edge of the treeline. There was no sign of a cemetery -- but Native Americans probably didn't use tombstones, did they? The clearing ahead lay between two woods, with a rocky outcropping to her right. To her left the meadow disappeared sharply, and beyond that she could see Lake Superior, far off in the distance. A cliff.

And, floating above that cliff, two figures.

"Oh, boy." Buffy gave some quick hand signals, the same thing they used to make fun of Riley Finn for doing. Then she took off to her left, staying just inside the tree line, until she reached one of the trails they had been avoiding. Ahead of her, just on the other side of the dirt trail, a sheer rock face dropped off maybe fifty feet to the water.

Dawn and Robin stood, quite literally, in midair, ten feet from the edge of the cliff and twenty feet apart. They looked uneasy, to say the least, but unharmed.

Buffy reached to her belt for the tiny walkie talkie she was still unused to carrying. "Everybody stay in position." Then, sword at her side and acting as natural as if strolling in the park, she stepped out into the open.

"Buffy!" Dawn cried. "Crap!"

"Happy to see you, too." She kept walking, gaze darting around the clearing. No movement. But then, she couldn't see any movement back where she knew her people were, either.

"I'm sorry, it's just -- oh, never mind."

Finally Buffy stopped at the edge of the cliff, as close to her sister as she could get. She could see no sign of what was holding Dawn and Robin up, and could only hope they stayed up. "Trap, I assume?"

Dawn shook her head. "I don't think so. We just popped up here without seeing anyone, and there haven't been any guards. He really didn't seem to care whether you showed up or not."

"I'm hurt." Actually, she was worried. If the bad guys were that confident, they could be in big trouble. "Robin, you're all right?"

"Long story, but I'm whole. Dawn and I are the key to whatever is going to happen tonight, but I suppose you've already figured that out."

"Yeah," Buffy said drily. Taking one last look around, she reached for the walkie. "I need some witchy-slash-watcher advise out here, guys. Slayers, clear the perimeter."

The slayers instantly moved across the clearing, some spreading out to check the woods on the other side while others climbed the rocky outcroppings. Willow, Giles and Richard joined Buffy while Xander, with no specific instructions, wandered into the center of the clearing and kept looking around as if excepting something to drop on him.

"Good deployment," Robin said approvingly. "But other than those three big green demons, the only contact we've had was a disembodied voice and some weird red guy who made us sing and dance."

"The green demons are -- sing and dance?" Richard repeated. He didn't notice the shocked expressions, but jumped when Xander ran up to them.

"You mean --"

"Yep," Dawn confirmed, shooting an accusing glare at Xander. "Which means, in a way, this is all your fault. You're the one who called him the first time."

Xander held a finger up, but no sound came out. Which, Buffy reflected, was probably for the best, considering he might burst into a ballad, so she decided to speak before some riff started up. "Did he give you any idea at all what he's up to?"

"I don't think he's up to anything, it's like he's just hanging around watching somebody else do something. He even gave us this weird riddle: Um, how do you keep the dream of cheese from remembering a dream . . . or something."

Robin rolled his eyes at her. "No, it was how do you keep the dream of a milkshake --" He stopped, looking startled. "No. Shaken milk -- it _was_ cheese, or butter. How do you reverse the dream of cheese from bringing memories to a real life nightmare."

Buffy looked at Giles. "To coin a phrase: Huh?"

"It sounds more like butter." Giles blinked, then turned to Richard. "Perhaps it's some pop culture reference."

"What are you looking at me for?"

Well, so much for the watcher help, but much to Buffy's surprise Xander suddenly burst out, "Ooh! Ooh!" Then his face fell. "No, it's just too stupid."

Willow, whose attention had been shifting between the cliff and her hanging friends, looked back over her shoulder. "Go ahead, tell us. This is a portal, and it's going to open soon."

"Well, uh . . . remember that time we all had the dreams that had the weird guy with the cheese?"

The silence that followed was so deep that Buffy could, literally, hear crickets chirping. "The cheese guy?"

Willow just nodded and turned back to her study of the area.

"Wait a minute." Dawn looked from one of them to the other. "Little guy, balding, glasses, holding up pieces of cheese? He shows up every time I dream about Brad Pitt."

Everyone looked at Dawn.

"Um, not that I dream about Brad Pitt all that often . . ."

"Busted," Xander said, with a grin that indicated he was glad it was somebody else's turn this time.

"I first saw him in a dream last week," Richard breathed. "You're telling me this being has come out of our dreams to attack us in the real world?"

"Very Nightmare on Elm Street," Xander said. "Except this guy doesn't have Freddie Kreuger's neato razor fingers."

"He's got something else," Willow warned, pointing out toward the lake. "And here it comes!"

They turned to see a swirling point of light at the center of the space between Dawn and Robin, and even as Buffy watched it began to expand. It reminded her uncomfortably of the portal to hell that opened in Sunnydale years ago -- the one she'd had to seal by killing her lover, Angel. Not a fun memory, and this one wasn't shaping up much better.

"Wait!" Dawn screamed. "It can't open, we're not bleeding!"

"Jeez, don't give anybody ideas!" Robin shot back.

"Buffy --" Stepping backward, Willow gestured at the portal. "Bring the slayers in. Whatever bad is coming, it's coming through there."

"Right." She gave a whistle, but by the time she turned back around something had already come through, and hovered in the air between the portal and the cliff. It was a steamer trunk, padlocked shut, and over it a shimmering path appeared between the portal and the ground.

"That was in the cell where we were held," Dawn called.

Willow waved a hand toward it, repeating an incantation several times until she finally drew back, looking exhausted. "It's got an aura of mystical power, but I'm not sure what it is. All I know is, it's acting as both a battery and a shield, to charge the portal and keep us from reaching it."

"Why don't we just try anyway," Giles suggested, leveling a crossbow on the object. An instant later a half dozen bolts hit the box from every direction. Or rather, would have, if they hadn't bounced off an invisible wall before reaching it.

"It's being protected for a reason," Richard said. "Like the riddle said, we need to reverse this reaction -- that has to mean destroying whatever's inside there."

With the box now in place, the portal suddenly expanded, until it reached almost from Robin to Dawn, but neither showed signs of being harmed.

Giles waved the others back. "We're out of time."

Out of time, Buffy thought, even as she started forward. Still no idea what they were facing, still no way to free the captives. In her peripheral vision she glimpsed some of the others also moving toward the gateway, no doubt thinking the same thing she was -- that they would be better off taking the fight inside, rather than waiting for something to come to them. But none reached the entrance before it flashed, and someone stepped through.

A girl. A familiar looking girl, tall and angular. She looked around, seeming confused, until someone else appeared beside her.

A figure out of Buffy's nightmares. Literally. Not the scary parts, though -- it was just a mild looking, balding man wearing a rather rumpled gray suit, who looked around at the darkening clearing as if it was a whole new world. Then he smiled, reached out, and slapped a silver dagger into the girl's hand. "You know what to do."

Her expression clearing, the girl continued forward until she reached a young slayer who had been with Buffy since the battle against the First Evil.

That slayer gasped, and lowered her battle ax. "Amanda? My God, I thought you were dead -- I saw you fall in the Hellmouth."

"Sorry," Amanda said, then she shoved the dagger into the slayer's chest.


	12. The Rising of the Slayers

CHAPTER TWELVE

Someone cried out, then another gasp arose from the slayers as they saw two of their own -- who had both died in combat with The First's forces -- emerge from the portal. One was armed with a wooden stake, the other's hands were empty, but Buffy knew an unarmed slayer was a weapon unto herself.

She also knew that she had made a terrible mistake, a mistake made clear when the slayer Amanda killed rose up again, looking annoyed. She jerked the dagger from her chest, handed it to Amanda, and picked up the battle ax, then turned to stand beside her killer. The two others passed the Cheese Guy to take position beside their dead comrades, while two more killed slayers emerged from the shimmering portal.

"The Rising of the Slayers . . ." From the tone of Giles' voice, Buffy knew he was kicking himself for not figuring it out, just as she was.

"Dead slayers!" Xander cried, with considerably more emotion. "Now what do we do?"

"What we always do." Holding her sword high, Buffy turned to rally her troops. "Hit them hard, before any more come through! Force them back through the portal!" She raced forward, dodged Amanda's attempt to slice her with the dagger, and against every instinct rammed the sword into the dead slayer's belly. At the same instant a crossbow bolt flashed by, burying itself in Amanda's upper chest.

"Ow." Amanda twisted away, tearing the sword out of Buffy's grip, then pulled it from her abdomen. "Damn it, Buffy, that hurt." She grabbed the weapon by its hilt and swung it at Buffy, who barely ducked in time.

More slayers emerged from the portal, two by two. The Cheese Guy, looking enormously pleased, rubbed his hands together and stood near the entrance, watching them go by.

Ducking Amanda's swings, Buffy had only glimpses of the rest of the battle as her compatriots moved in. Xander yelled, "Shoot them in the head! It always works in the movies!", apparently forgetting that no one had any guns. Someone did manage to get a crossbow bolt into the forehead of a slayer, but the dead girl merely broke it off at the base and continued attacking.

Still, if they couldn't kill them . . . Buffy ducked under Amanda's next swing and swung up with both fists, breaking her hold on the sword. She kicked the girl away, caught the weapon in midair, found another dead slayer who was trying to get past Kennedy's ax swings -- and with one quick motion lopped the slayer's head off.

Time froze, as Buffy waited to see what had happened.

The head came to a stop, its eyes giving Buffy an angry glare, while the body stumbled around, trying to scoop the head back up. Not what she had hoped for.

"I just want to say --" Kennedy gave a mighty swing and cut the body in half "-- Ick."

The severed torso quivered, arms and legs sweeping out in an attempt to grab Kennedy.

"Ick," Kennedy repeated, stepping around it to rejoin the battle. Behind her, Willow gave the animated corpse a horrified look, then dodged another dead slayer and called to Buffy. The young witch pointed toward the cliff.

Buffy turned to see the same scene as before, with the glowing portal, the shabbily dressed little man, and the two invisible cubes holding --

Dawn and Robin now slouched in their prisons, looking listless as they gazed out at the battle. They were being drained of energy, Buffy realized -- not literal blood, but lifeblood. With hundreds, maybe thousands of dead slayers yet to come through, there was no chance Robin and her sister would survive powering the portal -- slayer family connection or not. But before she could think of a plan, a new voice sent a shiver to her very soul.

"Hello, Buffy." The girl, skin black as the night around them and hair in cornrows, advanced on her with the same cool expression she'd worn while alive. "In the middle of the action again, I see."

"Kendra." It couldn't be -- this was too much. "Kendra, you don't have to do this."

"Our bodies are whole again, but our minds are not our own. We _do_ have to do this." Kendra charged forward, ramming into the slayer she was once called to replace.

Although Kara was trying hard to respect Faith for all that experience and ability, she was getting thoroughly sick of the older slayer.

Faith stood rather unsteadily against the SUV, listening intently. There had been a sudden squawk on the radio, then some jumbled voices that walked over each other, then nothing. It had made Faith, who'd been a total grouch since the others left, practically spastic. To make matters worse, Jason had started joining in:

"Kara, I could use those weapons they brought. My old man had me totally immersed in all that military stuff, you know that. I could help them."

But Kara, fighting her own impulse to jump in, stubbornly shook her head. "If I'm going to be a slayer, that means knowing when to take orders --"

Faith snorted.

"-- And knowing when to take initiative. They have a dozen radios, and if they need us they'll call."

"Unless they think we can't help," suggested Trina, who still sat with Jason at the picnic table.

"Or unless they were sneak attacked," Jason added.

Kara realized she was pacing between the table and the parked vehicles, so she stopped and tried to slow her racing pulse. "It's not time to go all worst case scenario. Not yet."

"Yes, it is."

It took a moment for Kara to realize this was a new voice, and by the time she whirled around the others were already staring at a woman who stood just a few yards from the table. She looked about Kara's age, with long black hair adorned by a crown and flowers and, incongruously in this wilderness, a long white gown. In one hand she carried a scepter that had, at its tip, a fanciful letter Z inside a circle.

"Oh my God," Jason gasped. "Ozma of Oz." Seeing the questioning look Faith shot him, he added, "I've heard."

Jason was right, Kara thought -- it was the exact image of the girl ruler of the Land of Oz, a fantasy character of the book series her father read to her and Jason as children. What next? Dorothy and the Scarecrow, popping in by way of the Nome Kingdom? Never again, she promised herself, would she ask if things could possibly get any weirder.

"There's not much time." Striding over to Jason, Ozma waved the scepter within inches of his ribs. Jason was too stunned to respond, but Trina jumped to her feet and started to come between them. "It's all right. I haven't much power here, but I'm going to heal him."

"Who are you?" Faith demanded.

"A friend." She smiled at Jason, who had raised his shirt to stare in astonishment at the place where the demon had raked his chest. The skin was now unmarred, without even a scar.

"And you know this friend?"

"Um . . ." Standing, Jason gave Faith an embarrassed shrug. "Well, she looks just like a character from these books I used to . . ."

"Oh, books. No wonder I don't recognize her." Taking two steps forward, Faith pointed an accusing finger at their visitor. "Who are you, really?"

The girl's features began to change. Although still dressed in the gown, she grew taller. Her hair shortened, features changed, and as Kara watched she aged some fifteen years. "I also loved the Oz books as a child, and when I received some visitors who might have recognized me, I chose Ozma's form for a disguise. I have little real power. I'm only a spirit, after all, who used to dabble in magic on the earthly plane."

She moved toward Faith, but the slayer backed away. "Okay, so you can get young without drugs or surgery. But that doesn't give me any reason to trust you."

The woman rolled her eyes. "I helped your friend, didn't I? And I can make you ready to fight again, although that will drain most of my power." When Faith still looked doubtful, the woman waved her scepter and an image formed nearby, like a movie screen. They saw their friends, falling back as a force of young women attacked them. Near the edge of a cliff Buffy, cut off from the rest, desperately dueled a young black female who seemed her equal.

The woman turned back to Faith, and held out her hand. "The dead walk tonight, and I was able to come with the rest of them. You never knew me, but my name was Jenny Calendar. Will you let me help you?"

Buffy had fought Kendra before. It hadn't gone much better that time.

The other slayer had managed to knock the sword out of Buffy's hand and now the two dueled hand to hand, coming perilously close to the edge of the cliff as they punched, swung and kicked. For the moment they were almost alone: the number of dead slayers equaled the living, now, and kept on fighting even after taking a huge amount of damage. Buffy had heard Giles instruct the others to fall back, toward the outcroppings at the clearing's edge, where they would have the advantage of high ground.

"We always fight to a draw," Kendra complained, as she whirled to try a high kick.

Buffy deflected it, but Kendra dodged out of range of her return punch. "You're a snappy dresser, but way too uptight. That gives me the advantage."

Kendra threw herself forward, and for a moment the two grasped at each other, equally matched and motionless. "Buffy -- if things were different, it would be good to see you again."

Kendra's words were so sincere that Buffy almost faltered. "Then why -- can't you fight it?"

"Our bodies are here for his purpose. We're here to kill all slayers, so he can control them."

"The Cheese Guy? Come on." Bracing herself, Buffy head butted her former friend, sending Kendra reeling. "Even Giles wears more interesting clothes than that guy. What, they don't have designer shops in hell?" This had to stop. She glanced around, and took three quick steps to the left to position herself. As long as Kendra didn't figure out what she was up to . . .

"I was in Heaven," Kendra protested. Buffy felt a stab of sympathy, remembering what it was like to be torn out of paradise, but when Kendra rushed forward she was ready. She dropped down, kicking out with her legs, which sent Kendra up and flying through the air.

Right over the cliff.

Gasping for breath, Buffy climbed to her feet and glanced around. From here she saw the portal from its edge, and was shaken to see more slayers appear out of what appeared to be thin air. With the Cheese Fella following his troops, the only thing visible were the two tiny prisons and the box, and that gave Buffy her first glimpse of the power flow involved. Ribbons of multicolored energy, similar to the Northern Lights, flowed from Robin and Dawn into the locked steamer trunk, and from there into the base of the portal.

Base . . . She watched the flow of energy for a long moment. It went into the bottom of the box, and from there into the bottom of the portal. They had tried to attack the trunk from the sides, but if energy could get into it from underneath, maybe something else could, too. Grabbing her walkie, she pushed the transmit button. "Kara, I need that heavy weaponry here now."

Faith's voice replied. "We're on our way."

But could they get here in time? Buffy looked around for her sword, intent on joining the battle again, but her attention was drawn to a slayer striding through the portal. A rather slight looking black woman with an afro, she stopped at the edge of the cliff, instead of immediately attacking the living. She turned to gaze up at Robin, who lay on the bottom of his invisible cage but looked back intently.

"I've been counting," Robin said, his voice so weak Buffy could barely hear it. "I knew you were due."

"It won't make a difference," the woman said. "In fact, I'm going to be leading the attack. I'm one of the most experiences slayers, you know." She smiled gently. "One of the oldest, when I died."

"Old enough to have a child." Robin smiled back. "I still love you, mom."

"And I love you, babe," Nikki told her son. "But it doesn't change what I have to do."

"Where's your stake?"

Nikki stared at him, looking puzzled. From across the portal Dawn, who had been watching, looked equally bewildered by the sudden change in subject, and Buffy knew how they felt.

"You always carried a stake you made yourself, long and thin so you could hide it in your coat sleeve. You called it Mr. Finger." Looking more tired by the second, Robin paused to catch his breath. "You used to say you loved to give vamps the Finger. And you always had a switchblade in your jacket pocket. Where's your blade, mom?"

Nikki patted at her torso, looking for her black leather jacket, and found it missing.

"Guess you lost the weapons in that last fight with Spike, didn't you? Before he killed you." With his last ounce of strength, Robin raised his head to give Buffy a pointed look.

Oh -- oh! Grabbing her walkie, Buffy shouted into it. "Everyone, the dead slayers only come back with what weapons they had on them when they died. That's your advantage -- most are unarmed. Don't let them have any weapons!"

She didn't have time to listen for an acknowledgment, because Nikki was now coming toward her. The black woman's face was glowing, and she gave a prideful smile. "My baby -- even with his last breath, he's always thinking." She paused long enough to scoop up Buffy's discarded sword. "There -- now I'm armed." Then she gave the living slayer a look of regret. "I'm really sorry about this."

"It's not your fault," Buffy told her, as she looked around for an escape route. Her back was again to the cliff, but it looked like Nikki wouldn't fall for the same trick.

"No. What a shock, when I came out of that portal --" She shook her head, then raised the sword. "Someone could have just run me over with a truck."

And at that moment, someone did.

Richard helped Giles to his feet, and together the two men dragged Willow over a boulder just as a dead slayer made a grab for her foot. Richard reached out with his sword and, wincing, sliced the slayer's hand off.

"We are so losing," Xander said as he gained the top of a rocky outcropping that suddenly looked much smaller. "Willow, how about a little protection spell?"

But Willow, who was nursing a bruised thigh from falling as she climbed the granite boulders, shook her head. "I'm about magicked out."

Covered by slayers who threw rocks and shot their final few crossbow bolts, the last of the living group gained the relatively flat top of the rocky area and formed a defensive circle. They had managed to make it across the meadow with the further loss of only two of their own, owing largely to the fact that they were armed and most of their opponents weren't. But their long range weaponry was out of ammunition, they had managed to completely incapacitate only a few of their attackers, and more were entering the fray every moment.

Richard glanced around at a battlefield lit by the full Moon. Some of the dead slayers were starting to work their way around the outcropping, but most were still on the meadow side, so he touched Giles' shoulder. "If we're going to make a break for it, now is the time."

Frowning, Giles stared across the meadow. By the cliff two figures faced each other, while moonlight gleamed off one flashing sword. About forty dead slayers edged forward, while the strange looking little man Richard once saw in a dream stood near the center of the meadow, watching it all with keen interest but little concern. "Buffy is --"

"We can't reach her now." Richard took the other watcher by the shoulder, but Giles shook him off.

"We don't leave someone behind, especially now. She'd . . . rise."

"You told me about making sacrifices." Giles glared at him, but even as he spoke Richard shifted gears. "Besides, maybe we can work our way around through the woods, get to Buffy, then retreat back to the vans. We're not going to do anything here but get cut down, one by one."

"I don't think we could reach Buffy in time --"

Both men froze, watching in astonishment as an SUV ran down the woman who had been fighting Buffy. It stopped on top of the body, then four figures piled out as Buffy reached for the dropped sword.

Richard was glad to see Buffy saved, but his heart dropped as he realized one of the people who had saved her was his daughter, who had been thrown into battle despite everything. They were only yards from the portal, and more slayers would come through that mystical door any second. "Rupert, we have to join up --"

Too late. Sensing they might soon face a second front, the dead slayers rushed the outcropping from three sides, clawing their way up the rock as the overwhelmed and exhausted defenders began to fall back. A retreat was now the only alternative, and Richard realized that meant leaving the others -- leaving Kara -- behind.

But as much as he feared living without his daughter, an instant later he discovered that might be a moot point. Somehow, from somewhere, a new group of attackers had come up from behind them, and a dozen whooping slayers laden with weapons dashed up onto the rocks, into the rear of the living slayers --

And through them, to slam into the wall of dead slayers with a clash of weapons.

One small, slight young man stopped beside Giles, leveled a crossbow at a dead slayer that had just reached the top of the outcropping, and with one shot sent her plummeting back into the meadow. Then he turned to give the watchers a shaky salute. "Reporting as ordered, Mr. Giles. Chantel stayed back at the road with our -- incapacitated slayer."

"Perfect timing, Andrew," Giles replied, his voice flooded with relief. "But how did you find us so quickly?"

Andrew got a very strange look on his face, and pointed behind them. "We had a guide."

The watchers turned, just as a wispy, glowing phantom settled to the surface and coalesced into something just a bit more solid.

"My phantom." Willow had a pleased look on her face, but it froze as the glow faded and the apparition that had saved her before became fully visible for the first time. Her legs gave way, and Xander barely managed to keep her from falling despite his own shock.

Surprised at their reaction, Richard turned to Giles, but the other watcher's eyes were wide, his face bloodless. "My God."

Attracted to the commotion, Kennedy turned from the battle, then rushed to her stricken lover's side. She faced the spirit, battle ax at ready, apparently certain it had attacked Willow, but then paused to stare uncertainly. "Is . . . is it . . ."

"It is," Xander whispered.

For the first time, the apparition spoke, but it never took its eyes from Willow. "You have to hold a little while longer, and draw their attention. Buffy has a plan, now."

The sound of battle seemed to drop away, as the others digested that. Then Giles cleared his throat and said, quite calmly, "Thank you, Tara."

Sweet materialized beside Cheeseman, who promptly demanded, "Where have you been?"

Sweet, who had expected that response, clapped his hands against his chest in mock horror. "I'm a dancer, not a fighter."

To his surprise Cheeseman accepted that, which could only mean the battle was going well for him. "Just don't send my troops into synchronized kicking, this is a critical moment. Have you seen Ozma?"

"Ozma isn't as powerful as either of us had been led to believe. I think it's reasonable to assume she isn't able to physically appear in the earthly plain. This is your first trip here, isn't it?"

"Yes." Cheeseman stared off toward the outcropping, where shouts, screams of pain and the clashing of steel rang out. Dozens of fighters swarmed over the rocks, armed with everything from maces and battle axes to sticks, rocks, or bare hands. "I find it intoxicating."

Sweet gave a noncommittal hum, and turned to survey the entire battlefield. Only a few bodies were scattered over the meadow, and it made even him a little queasy to see that, although all were hacked into pieces, those pieces still moved and some even tried to drag themselves back into battle. A pair of slayers marched resolutely toward the fight, while two more were just emerging from the glowing portal. Dawn and Robin sprawled across the bottom of their see-through cells, barely moving. Not far from them, a body struggled where it was pinned beneath the wheel of an SUV. A rope had been tied to the hitch of that vehicle, and as Sweet watched five figures gathered where the rope led over the cliff edge.

"How long," he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, "do you think those two can survive at the rate you're siphoning off their life energy?"

"It's only their power of movement that's been weakened so far. There is plenty still in them, enough to bring back every slayer right back to the very first one." Cheeseman glanced back at the portal, caught sight of the SUV, and frowned. "That could be a problem."

"yes," Sweet agreed with a nod. "The battle's going well here. You'd better go handle that situation personally."

Cheeseman's aura of confidence faded, and for the first time fear crossed his face. "You mean -- myself?"

"They do seem to be attacking that portal, the key to all your plans, and only a hundred or so slayers have passed through, so far. Surely a being of your considerable cheesiness isn't frightened?"

"No, of course not." Squaring his shoulders, Cheeseman motioned for the two slayers who were about to pass by to join him, then glanced back at Sweet. "And you?"

"I'm right behind you." Way, way behind you, Sweet thought, as he trailed the group.

"This is so cool." Jason slung the bulky rocket launcher over his shoulder.

"You only have one shot," Kara cautioned, "and we don't know how far we'll have to go to get it. We might even have to get right underneath."

"Yeah. Now aren't you glad I taught you how to rock climb?" Looking way too enthusiastic, considering the circumstances, Jason pulled on a pair of leather gloves and paused at the edge of the cliff. "Wish we had better equipment. Or a helicopter. Is it tied off to the SUV okay?"

"The knot looks good," Nikki called from under the vehicle's frame, even as she stretched out in a desperate attempt to untie the rope. "Say, does anyone know if Spike is still alive?"

"Charbroiled," Buffy replied, her voice tight.

"Good. I hope it hurt." Although she continued her attempt to reach the rope, Nikki gave the others a sympathetic look. "Don't worry, it'll work. Just watch your back."

"And hurry," Trina added. "Look."

Kara, who was also donning gloves, glanced up and saw two slayers and the Cheeseman striding toward them, trailed by a nattily dressed demon with red skin. Cheeseman gestured to two more slayers as they came through the portal, and both also turned toward the SUV. "We can't get into position before they reach us."

"Leave that to us. I want to have a talk with that guy." Buffy hefted her sword and stalked toward the larger of the two groups.

"Trina, we've got the two who just came through." Faith also started off, but Kara stopped her.

"They can't be killed -- again -- and that means you three against four unstoppable slayers and two demons. More slayers will come through any second."

Faith just grinned at her, and hefted a mean looking battle ax. "They can be incapacitated, and look -- I've got an edge on them."

"You go, girl," Nikki called.

"Just hurry." Faith and Trina hurried off to meet their challenge, and Kara turned to see Jason had already gone over the edge.

She looked down to see him a dozen feet below, bracing with his feet while he slid slowly down the rope. "I need real gear," he told her. "This is harder than I expected."

"Dad said the same thing about life once." Ignoring the thought that she might never see her father again -- and the sounds of fighting that suddenly broke out nearby -- Kara clutched the rope and dropped over the edge, climbing down quickly but taking care not to drop on top of her friend. "You're about twenty feet down. That's far enough, now look for a ledge or something."

"It's dark," he complained, dropping another few feet.

"Night'll do that." The cliff shadowed them from the moonlight, so it was indeed dark. She remembered she could see better than Jason, and called out to guide him onto a narrow ledge, barely wide enough to rest a foot on. A moment later she settled beside him and, as they both clutched the rope, looked up toward the steamer trunk.

It was clearly visible, glowing from the energy that flowed to and from it -- and there was, indeed, a seemingly open area at its base, surrounded by the flow of glowing vapor. If Jason could put a rocket into that undefended space, it might stop the dead slayers in their tracks -- but they were still too far off to one side. "We need to get under it more. Can you see any handholds?"

"I got it -- the ledge widens out some." Jason left the rope and, clutching finger and toe holds, began to edge toward the portal. Before she could follow, Kara heard a noise and glanced downward.

They were not alone. Another girl, skin so black she looked like the Cheshire Cat with only glowing teeth and eyes showing, climbed steadily toward them. She was soaked, and a ragged gash scored her forehead. And she looked pissed. "You're a slayer?" she asked when she saw Kara had spotted her.

"Uh-huh."

"I'm Kendra, and I'm going to kill you and your friend. I just thought you should know."

"Oh."

The Cheeseman fell back as Buffy approached, but she didn't stop. Faith and Trina were already engaging their foes, and Buffy didn't know how long she had before still more slayers popped through the portal and attacked her from behind. "I'm so tired of you."

The little man spread his hands. "I'm just trying to spread the word of cheese."

"You're just a dirty old man, a peeping tom spying on people's dreams." The slayers attacked, and Buffy had to stop talking as she parried them with the sword.

"True," Cheeseman said, "except for the dirty part. I try to maintain strict standards of sanitation, which is mainly why I haven't come down before now. But I like it here. I think I'll take over. What's a little dirt?"

One of the slayers managed to get behind Buffy and grabbed her by the hair, while the other lunged forward and reached for her sword.

The Cheeseman just laughed.


	13. Final Conflict

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kara held onto the rope with both hands as Kendra climbed higher, off to one side just enough to avoid getting anything dropped on her.

"It's nothing personal," Kendra said. "It's my duty now."

"I don't suppose you take bribes?" She glanced over her shoulder, to find Jason had worked his way only a few feet toward the portal. "Jason, we've got company."

"I know. But I think I see some jagged rocks down there, just like in the movies."

"Very jagged," Kendra called up to him. "They hurt to land on."

"Maybe you'd like to try cliff diving again," Kara told her as she looked around for something to use as a weapon. There was a whole car load at the top of the cliff, but she hadn't expected to need anything but a handhold down here. Her job was supposed to be to help Jason, who had all the weapon they should have needed.

"I'm not falling again," Kendra said. "Even if I wasn't under someone else's control."

"You're very sure. Isn't she very sure, Jason?" No rocks sticking out of the cliff face, no sticks -- nothing.

"Could you guys please leave off on the banter? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Don't concern yourself." Kendra gave a mighty leap and grabbed the rope below Kara. Kara screamed as the rope swung crazily, carrying her off her feet. As she dangled, barely hanging on, the dead slayer began climbing hand over hand.

"Jason! We're out of time!" She glimpsed Jason, a yard or so further over, as he clutched a root with one hand and tried to unlimber the rocket launcher with another.

"Hold her off, Kara -- I'm trying to aim left handed."

Easy for him to say. Kendra reached with one hand for Kara's feet, intending to pull her down, so Kara kicked out and almost lost her grip in the process. The rope twisted around, taking its occupants on a wild ride.

Reaching up, Kendra managed to get a hand on Kara's foot. She pulled, making them both slide down a few feet, but just before losing her grip Kara kicked out with her other foot and managed to get free. She drew her legs up, trying to stay out of her attacker's reach, and glanced over to see how Jason was doing.

Precariously balanced, Jason managed to plant his toes into almost invisible footholds and twisted around, using both hands to control the weapon. The rocket would generate a powerful back blast -- and the rear of the launcher's tube was aimed right at Kara.

There was no help for it. He had to accomplish the mission. She held her breath and waited.

Then Jason adjusted his aim. The rocket flashed, and a jet of flame reached out toward Kendra. The older slayer cried out, using one hand to beat at her smoking hair.

"I'll help you put the fire out." Kara kicked out with both feet, pounding Kendra squarely on the head, and was rewarded to see the dead slayer, flailing helplessly, fall out of sight into the lake below.

The box -- Kara looked up, and saw the portal still existed. But of the steamer trunk there was nothing but pieces of burning wood, arcing through the air to follow Kendra into the water.

"You did it. Jason, you did it!" Still holding the rope, she waited for the smoke to clear so she could help him back to the cliff edge.

But when the smoke cleared, Jason was gone.

For what seemed a long time Kara hung there, fighting tears that finally came despite her efforts. There had been no way, she knew, to fire that weapon and still maintain a hold on the edge of the cliff. Jason had to have known that, too, but he also knew what was at stake.

Finally she started up again, careful to keep her footing. From the sounds above, she guessed the fight was not yet done, and she could only pray Jason's sacrifice was not in vain.

The ghost of Tara screamed.

Everyone on the battlefield stopped fighting, frozen in place by the unearthly wail and the ball of fire that erupted from the portal. The cry faded as a cloud of debris showered the ground, leaving the portal intact and Tara's spirit on its knees, hugging itself.

Willow glanced at Kennedy, who waved her forward, then fell to her knees beside the ghost of her lover. She reached out, but didn't quite touch the pale form as it rocked back and forth, obviously in pain. The others could only watch.

Except Richard, who craned his neck to stare toward the portal. Smoke still enshrouded the area, but he could make out indistinct forms in the haze.

Kara?

"What is it?" Hearing the anguish in Willow's voice, Richard turned back and saw Giles and Xander crouched on either side, holding the young witch up. From what he'd heard of Scooby history, he could begin to image how much pain this must be causing them, and how much conflict Willow must feel about seeing her dead love again while her new one stood right behind her. But Kennedy, her own face carefully neutral, merely rested a hand on Willow's shoulder.

"It's all right," Tara said. "There was -- a connection. But the container is destroyed, and I'm no longer bound to it."

"What about the dead slayers?" Xander asked.

Tara shook her head. "The connection between dimensions is still there, although the power source he was using to call forth the slayers is gone. The ones already here are still under his command, and as soon as he figures that out --"

"Tara." Giles reached his hand out but, like Willow, didn't quite touch the slightly transparent figure before him. "What was in that box?"

Tara looked up at him, and a shudder ran through her. "A skeleton, charged with magical energy. Me."

Dawn felt better. Kind of.

Although the still felt drained, a little energy actually flowed back into her when the steamer trunk suddenly exploded. She managed to sit up as pieces of smoldering wood fluttered down on her. Then an ember landed on her hand and she smacked it away, cursing.

Wait a minute.

She looked up. For the first time her invisible cell was visible, outlined by smoke, and above her she saw a layer of haze drift by. Just above her, probably a foot, at most, over her standing height.

"Son of a --" Why no roof? A requirement to allow the magical energy flow? Or did Cheeseman rightly guess she was too stupid to check? Getting to her feet, Dawn reached up and easily touched the edge of her little cell -- it felt like glass, maybe an inch thick. "Robin!"

In the other cell, Robin looked up. Surprise registered on his face when he saw Dawn pulling herself up, using all her remaining energy to plant her feet against the side. "Let's go, Robin. I will not --" She swung up, getting a foot over the edge. "Be a victim --" She straddled the wall and reached a foot down toward the portal, to see if it would hold her. "Again."

Drawing himself up, Robin leaned against a wall for a long moment, watching as Dawn started working her way onto the seemingly insubstantial top of the portal. Then he grinned, and reached up himself.

Cheeseman looked away from the debris that rained down around his gateway, coughed a bit at the drifting smoke, and turned to Buffy. His skin had turned red all the way to the top of his bald head, so red he could give Sweet a run for his money. "You -- you ruined my plan."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Buffy glanced at the two dead slayers, who had fallen back from their attack when the box blew up and now looked on with confusion. Just in time, too -- one held the sword she had managed to get away from Buffy. "Now I'm going to ruin that wrinkled gray suit, which, by the way, buying off the rack is not for you. Next time you decide to take over the world go custom made, like your dancing buddy."

Standing well out of fighting range, Sweet gave a little bow.

So, what was the sitch? While the Cheese Guy continued to sputter and curse, Buffy took a quick look around. Kara and Jason were nowhere to be seen, and Buffy feared the worst. The rope was still tied to the SUV, but the vehicle now rested on its side while Nikki, nursing the abdomen that had been pinned under its tire for so long, also took in the situation. Dawn and Robin were still alive; Dawn had even stood up, and for some reason was reaching over her head.

The last two slayers to emerge from the portal had joined the two who had taken on Faith and Trina. Two of them now lay scattered across the ground, literally hacked to pieces, while Faith and Trina were still standing -- but then Buffy realized, with a sharp pang of guilt, that Trina stood with the remaining two dead slayers, trying to tug a stake from the center of her chest.

Through the smoke, she could barely make out the main battleground at the rocky outcropping. Everyone there was just milling around, she realized. Had they won? Had the box's destruction wrested control of the risen slayers from Cheeseman?

Shaking in rage, Cheeseman pointed toward Buffy and raised his voice. "Kill her, and kill everyone who has ever so much as given her a friendly smile."

Every dead slayer lunged forward.

A roar rose from the outcropping, as the main battle erupted again, but although Buffy knew her friends were badly outnumbered, she had no time to devote to them. A delicate looking Chinese slayer swung her own sword at her, but Buffy threw herself backward, and the sword stabbed into the torso of the other dead slayer. The Chinese slayer said something that sounded much like an apology, but by then Buffy had gained her feet and there was no more time for words.

Cheeseman just looked on. "You won't touch my suit. With the slayers I've brought back, and the rest of you who will soon be turned, I'll have all the power I need."

With all her resources committed, Buffy feared he was very much right.

Kara pulled herself over the edge of the cliff, got to her knees, and took it all in.

Closest to her was Nikki, who had just pulled a battle ax from the back of the SUV and was waiting while three attacking slayers -- including Trina, Kara realized with a start -- forced Faith backward toward her. The good guys were all in retreat, or surrounded.

No. No way was Jason's sacrifice going to be for nothing. No way would she become a slayer, and see all the slayers brought under the control of evil in the same week. She dashed forward, then skidded to a halt behind Nikki and tapped her on the shoulder.

Nikki turned, and met a fist full in the face. She went down and lay there stunned, while Kara scooped up the ax and turned to run in the other direction. As she went by Faith she swung the ax in a great arc, slicing one of the slayers right down the middle, but Kara didn't even slow down -- that wasn't her main target. There was only one way to end this, so she continued on toward Cheeseman.

But she was only halfway there when someone grabbed her shoulder, and she spun around to see a fist coming at her nose. She tried to dodge, but the blow landed on the side of her face and she dropped, stunned. Opening her eyes, she saw Nikki standing above her, again holding the ax. "Hoist by your own petard, slayer."

"What?"

"My watcher taught me that phrase. It means I used your own moves against you, and now who's got the power?"

Another voice answered: "He does."

Nikki whirled, to find her son before her.

"He does, mom. But you don't have to be used by him. You can take back the power."

"This is bigger than words, bigger than will power. Get out of here, son, or I'll have to kill you, too." She hoisted the ax threateningly.

"I don't think so. I'll fight to free you, fight to the last."

Nikki shook her head, looking indescribably sad. "I don't have freedom anymore."

"You can." Robin glanced at Kara. "If the one who controls you is killed."

Without a word, Kara leaped to her feet and ran.

"No!" Nikki dashed after her. Kara glanced back just in time to see Robin tackle his mother, and they both rolled on the ground, wrestling for the ax.

Now Buffy's battle stood between Kara and Cheeseman. She tried to dodge around them, but the Chinese slayer saw her and swung the sword around, forcing her back. Buffy took advantage of the distraction to kick out, sending the sword flying through the air.

"Kill them!" Cheeseman screamed. "I want all the slayers to be mine!"

The Chinese slayer came after Kara, but one arm hung uselessly at the girl's side, broken. Kara came in from that side with a hard kick, followed by a chop to the neck, and her attacker went down in a heap. She turned to help Buffy, but the other dead slayer had already been flung through the air, to land hard on her head. Together, Kara and Buffy turned toward the now defenseless Cheeseman.

"Dream," Cheeseman said.

At first Kara didn't realize what was happening. Then she saw them: spiders, hundreds of them, black and hairy and as big as her hand. They came toward her at an unnatural speed, climbing onto her legs and up her torso. Screaming, Tara stumbled backward, but the spiders kept coming. She turned to Buffy, begging for help.

But Buffy kneeled on the ground, tears running down her cheeks, her hands outstretched. There was nothing, no one around her, but The Slayer was clearly blinded by uncontrollable grief.

"On this plane of existence I don't have to wait until you're sleeping." Cheeseman's voice was mild, pleasant. "The closer you are, the more I can reach into your mind."

Buffy sobbed uncontrollably.

"I have the power, you see."

Kara tried to scream, but the spiders were on her chest and back, then on her head, trying to get into her mouth. She flailed around in a panic, but couldn't shake them off.

"I am the Big Cheese, now. I am the stuff of your nightmares --"

Then the spiders were gone.

Kara spun around, stamping her feet, thoroughly freaked out. Beside her, cheeks wet with tears, Buffy looked up in confusion.

The Cheeseman also looked confused. Gaze turned down, he stared at the point of Buffy's sword, which now emerged from his chest.

Behind him, face twisted in rage, Dawn gave the sword a twist and shoved it in further. "I'm going nondairy. Nightmare that, you son of a bitch."

"But --" Cheeseman fell to his knees, then craned his neck to look at the still motionless Sweet. "But I had a plan."

Sweet just shrugged. "That's show biz."

Cheeseman fell forward, and lay still on the grass.

Immediately, the fighting ended. The dead slayers again fell back in confusion, looking around at each other. Those who had been dismembered ceased moving at all.

"Dawn --" Rushing forward, Buffy took her sister in her arms and started crying again. "You're alive. You're all alive."

"It's okay. It was a nightmare." Kissing Buffy on the forehead, Dawn drew back a bit. "And I didn't have to be rescued, did I?"

Buffy gave a choking laugh. "You sure didn't. In fact, you saved the day."

Kara watched them, unconsciously brushing at her clothes as if the spiders were still there. She had a feeling she knew what Buffy's nightmare had been, and it didn't involve insects.

Slowly, the two forces on the outcropping began to disperse, making their way toward the cliff. Robin and Nikki had fallen into each other's arms, reunited at last, while Faith put her arm around Trina and spoke to her quietly. Dawn poked a thumb at Sweet who, incredibly, still stood there as if his side had won. "What about him?"

"What about me?" Sweet asked with a smile. "Big post battle production number, maybe?"

"I don't think so," Buffy told him, but she didn't appear angry. "I have a feeling your heart wasn't in this little plan."

"Oh?"

"So why don't you tell us what you were up to?"

"Just tagging along, really. Curious about our friend with the cheese." Grinning, Sweet waved his hands to encompass the battleground. "The thing is, Earth is the swingingest place in the whole universe, full of music, dancing, partying -- well, he wanted it all to be like this. Death, pain, nightmares about cheddar and Roquefort . . ."

"What's with the cheese, anyway?" Buffy demanded.

"Can't account for fetishes. I say, what's up with that suit?"

"You helped us?" Dawn asked, eyes wide. "But that riddle --"

"Sometimes the clues don't get picked up in time. Cut me a break -- it was an ad lib."

Dawn crossed her arms, looking contrite. "I thought you were one of the bad guys,"

"I suppose I just wanted my name above the title, this once. Besides, I didn't do much -- gossiped a little, alerted some vampires that more slayers might come along, let a few spirits in on what my friend was up to. I was just a script doctor, you wrote the show. Now -- smiles, everyone."

Kara braced herself, determined not to sing.

"Don't worry, no song and dance this time. There's a little Italian girl in Milan calling me -- I foresee a whirlwind courtship, a full book of new songs, and a burning new love -- so I must be going. Besides, you have an epilogue to author -- a lot of loose ends to be tied up. So I guess I'll let you write your own finale."

And in a multicolored flash, Sweet was gone.

Kara waited a moment, still expecting to burst into song, and she could tell by their looks Dawn and Buffy had the same fear. When nothing happened she asked, "What about all the -- the --"

"Dead slayers," Buffy supplied. "The portal's still open, for some reason. We should be able to get them back where they belong."

"And then?"

Buffy turned to Dawn, who supplied the answer: "Traditionally, after saving the world, we get back to civilization. That, of course, means--"

Together the sisters finished: "Hitting the mall."


	14. Epilogue

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"It was a short career," Trina said.

She stood beside the portal, a canvas bag full of slayer parts slung over her shoulder. Xander and Andrew had directed the building of a makeshift bridge, made of picnic tables, between the cliff edge and the portal. Now the deceased slayers were filing onto it, back to where they came from. The souls of those who had been completely hacked to pieces had apparently already gone on to their reward, but the bodies were being hauled away by their compatriots, just in case.

"I'm sorry," Kara told her.

"I'm not. Did you notice not a single one of the slayers said they wanted to stay back here on Earth? I have a feeling I'm going to a better place. I'm kind of sorry I didn't make it to the Olympic trials, but a few days with all of you was a lot more fun than life in Cleveland." Trina turned, but Kara reached a hand out to stop her.

"If you see Jason --"

"I'll tell him you said . . . happy journey." Trina joined the others.

Kara turned to find her father, who stood by the uprighted SUV with Giles and Xander. To say he'd been glad to see her was putting it mildly, and he'd suffered nothing worse than a few scrapes and cuts. Mostly, he was suffering over how to break the news of Jason's death to the boy's father.

But at the moment the group debated why the portal had not closed with the removal of its power source. "Maybe you have to shed blood to close it, like with the ones Angel and Glory opened --" Xander realized what that meant, and clamped his mouth shut.

Giles gave him a hard look. "I believe it's more likely the two spirits who remain here, powering it through their supernatural presence. That would explain why their power has been strictly limited, and it also means the portal will fade when they go back to the ghostly plane."

Nodding, Richard looked toward the edge of the clearing. The two spirits floated there, seeming a bit more insubstantial as the early morning sky began to lighten. Standing arm in arm, Willow and Kennedy leaned forward before the ghosts in what appeared to be an animated conversation. "Who were they?"

"One was Tara, a former member of our group," Giles explained. "She died in -- well, it's a long story, but apparently her violent death trapped her between planes of existence, and she could only watch events on Earth until Sweet guided her to us. I haven't gotten close enough to identify the second one, but I would imagine her story is similar." He looked around, saw Buffy and Dawn were out of earshot, and added, "I had rather hoped the second spirit was Joyce Summers, so the girls could have some closure."

He hadn't noticed Willow, who'd left the spirits to join them. "Closure's important, wouldn't you say, Giles?" She watched him intently, and Kara realized an important decision hinged on his reply.

"Yes, of course. Simmering resentments, unfinished business -- that's what causes problems like this to begin with."

"Yeah." She caught his arm, and tugged him gently toward where the spirits waited. "Come on. There's some unfinished business to take care of."

Looking puzzled, Giles allowed himself to be pulled away.

"I wonder what that was all about?" Andrew said.

Kara shrugged. "All I know is, she calls herself Jenny Calendar."

Xander started and jerked around. "What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, she said --"

"Oh my God." Xander hurried off after his friends, leaving Kara and her father puzzled, but Andrew wore a knowing and rather bemused expression.

"Jenny Calendar was Mr. Giles' true love, who died in battle against an evil Vampyre named Angelus. Then Buffy killed him, but he came back as a good vampire with a soul and is now fighting evil is Los Angeles, which is kind of appropriate, except he's now in charge of an evil law firm and may be going bad again. It's a long story." Andrew thought about it a moment. "Actually, I guess it's not so long, but I left a lot of details out."

"I could tell," Richard told him.

Kara touched her father's arm. "I'll be back."

Richard nodded, and she felt him watching her as she walked across the meadow. She trailed after Buffy and Dawn, who ignored her as they hurried toward the rest of the Scoobies. Giles now faced the ghost of Jenny Calendar, looking as pale as her, while the other gathered around them.

"I wasn't sure if I should reveal myself to you," Jenny was saying.

"I . . . how are you . . ."

"I'm well, Rupert. I'm in a peaceful place, and I even got a chance to pitch in and help those I left behind."

"Jenny, I've always wanted to tell you how sorry --"

Jenny Calendar held up a translucent hand. "No, Rupert. You've always blamed yourself, but you know deep down that it wasn't your fault. Angelus killed me, not you -- and if our differences caused us to lose moments we didn't get enough of, it's too late to change that."

"Yes." Giles pulled off his glasses, and wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve. "Still, I . . . it's unfortunate . . . that is . . . bloody hell."

"I miss you, too." She reached forward tentatively, and when her hand touched Gile's shoulder he started. Then he reached his own hand up, lightly touching hers.

Feeling like a voyeur, Kara turned away. She didn't really know where she was going -- it was all so overwhelming. Before there had been no time for thought, only action, but now her thoughts tumbled over each other in a mad rush. She longed to stop the dwindling line of dead slayers, to ask them about what it had been like to fight and die alone. To ask them for advice on the strangest career in the world. To ask where they had been, since they died. To ask about Jason.

Near the front of the line she came across Robin and Faith, who stood arm in arm before Robin's mother, the slayer Nikki. Kara stood quietly, watching them.

"I'm proud of you," Nikki told her son. "I've always been watching you, and I've always been proud."

Robin nodded. "That's what I wanted, more than anything in the world."

Nikki turned, and reached out to touch Faith's hand. "He's a special man. He deserves special treatment."

"I'll --" Faith looked away, but then turned back to meet Nikki's gaze. "It's hard, staying with someone. In this business."

"That makes it all the more worth it." Seeing it was her turn to leave, Nikki took Robin in her arms. "I'll still be watching. Be good to each other, and do good work."

Robin just nodded. He watched until his mother, with a small wave and one last look, disappeared into the shimmering mist of the portal. Then he turned away, while Faith held him close.

That was love, Kara thought, as she wandered in the other direction. She wondered if Nikki's last words would kick Robin and Faith into realizing what they could mean to each other. Everyone deserved a love like that, a love stronger than anything.

Maybe, someday, she and Jason would have had that. But he'd gone and gotten himself killed while saving the world. Big jerk.

When someone called her name she wiped her face and turned, to see Rona, Vi, Chao-Ahn, and the rather worse for wear Amanda standing together at the edge of the clearing. "We have a present for you," Amanda said. "We wanted to give it to you before I left."

"It better be chocolate." No wonder Buffy was always cracking jokes -- it really did mask the pain.

The four parted, revealing two figures who limped into the meadow toward her.

"You kicked me in the head," Kendra accused. "And I think I broke my leg when I landed. It took us forever to find a place where we could climb back up."

Jason just looked at her.

Kara waited, trying to control her breathing, until the group reached her. "I thought you were dead," she finally blurted out. _Oh, how original. Don't be lame, say something cute._ "I really thought you were dead."

"There were only a few jagged rocks, as it turned out, and I missed them."

"But I hit them," Kendra added. "Again." She limped past them, toward the portal. "I'm going back to where there's no pain and fighting. Tell Buffy --" She paused, and looked back with a smile. "Give her a hug for me."

When Kendra disappeared, Kara turned back to Jason. "I thought --"

"I was dead?"

"Yeah." She fell into Jason's arms, causing him to gasp before she remembered not to squeeze too hard. Then, after checking to make sure her father's attention was elsewhere, she kissed him. Rona whistled, but she didn't care.

When their lips parted Jason gasped, "I'll try to almost die more often."

The portal finally faded out of existence and the makeshift bridge, left without support, tumbled into Lake Superior. Their two spirit friends faded from sight, favoring two of the living with their last, wistful smiles. And Buffy, surrounded by her friends, stared out over a sunlit stretch of water so beautiful it made her ache.

Beside her, Willow reached out to cup Kennedy's cheek. "You're not upset?"

Kennedy shook her head. "I suppose without her, you wouldn't have become the woman I fell in love with."

"So, what now?" Xander looked around. "I don't suppose there are any miniature golf courses around here?"

"No," Dawn told him. "I checked on the way up. And the nearest mall is a hundred miles away."

"It's like a cultural vacuum."

"There's still the hellmouth in Cleveland," Richard reminded them, which produced groans from everyone.

"I'm glad you're here to take some of the abuse," Giles said. "In any case, if you plan to stay in Chicago we could continue the search for new slayers while our more experienced ones get that much needed vacation."

Everyone looked at Giles in varying degrees of surprise, but Andrew nodded happily. "You find the slayers, and I'll go around the world to pick them up."

"I'm up for some nightlife." Faith snaked her arm through Robin's. "What do you say, B? What now?"

Buffy looked off toward the horizon with a slight smile. "Dawn, how about a Eurotrip? I'm dying to check out the nightlife in Rome."

Dawn just nodded happily, but then gave Giles a dirty look when he said, "There's also a hellmouth in Venice. It's entrance was blocked in the early 18th century, but it still attracts . . ." When he saw their expressions he added, "Well, why do you think the city is sinking?"

"I'm for Rio," Kennedy said. "Kara can take over for me in cold Chicago, while we search for evil in the clubs and on the beaches. Right, Willow?"

"Do we get an expense account?" Willow grinned at Giles' look. "Well, we might find more slayers in the clubs and beaches."

"I'll check out Cleveland," Xander volunteered. "That's where the rock and roll museum is, right? Maybe Elvis really does still live."

With a sigh, Giles rolled his eyes. "The Earth is doomed."


End file.
